


Freedom_Bound

by DarkSky



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Abuse, Abusive Relationships, Child Abuse, Domestic Violence, Drug Abuse, Drug Addiction, Family Secrets, Happy Ending, Homophobia, Internalized Homophobia, John Winchester Being an Asshole, John Winchester's A+ Parenting, M/M, Rape/Non-con Elements, Self-Harm, Slow Burn, Stockholm Syndrome, Trauma
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-06-08
Updated: 2015-10-11
Packaged: 2018-04-03 12:48:20
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 19
Words: 26,097
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4101529
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/DarkSky/pseuds/DarkSky
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>This is my first fanfic!<br/>not sure how to describe.....just read it! (although be warned, is not a fluffy story, is quite dark)</p><p>On Hiatus as working on another two stories, but will be back once they are done!</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

It was a cold night, and not one that Castiel wanted to stay out in. But there was little choice. The rain had not yet come, but there was promise of it in the air. He was alone, beneath the one street light. If he was human, he would have shivered.  
He liked to think that, liked to pretend that he wasn’t human. Sometimes he even imagined he was an alien or even an angel, it was his only explanation for why, why he never quite fitted anywhere, not even in his own family. Now, that really made him shiver.  
He wondered what it was to be normal human being. To have choices. But all his life he had been told what to do and that’s what he was used to. That’s what family was. That’s what love was.  
He checked the time, surely it would be ok to go back now? He had been standing there for hours. He sighed. He pulled his trench coat around him, and started the walk back to the house. The wind biting and pulling him all the way.

xxxxxxxx

When he arrived, he stood before the massive foreboding looking mansion. It was impressive and fierce, just liked the man inside who ruled his family with iron and terror. He knew he would have to go in, had been willing himself the whole walk back. But now it was time, he just didn’t know if he could. His body ached, he had no choice. His hands pale and shaking, keyed in the code to open the gate. He crossed the gravel drive and pushed back the front door. At least it wasn’t locked this time.  
Inside was quiet, nothing like the human storm he had run from hours earlier. He peered into the darkness, not daring to turn on the light. The silence hanging, felt like it was waiting to be broken. He removed his shoes. His breath shallow as he made his way across the hall; the marble floor cold and hard against his feet. He wished he could merge into the walls, he wished he could be so small that nothing would see him. So foolish to have left, to have run, such a stupid, stupid boy.  
He slowly made his way up the spiral staircase. His whole body tense, on high alert. He could make it, he could make it! And just as he approached his room, the one at the end of the corridor. He heard his name, “Castiel”, the voice low, menacing, almost a hint of a smile.

_“Castiel, now where did you go?”_

He turned to face his father.

xxxxxxxx

The next day, he was greeted by the light, streaming in through his window. He sighed, just another day. He was already late, as he pulled the thick covers off his bed, wincing as he did so. The bruises to his ribs making themselves known, the sharp pain inside him greeting him like an old friend. He imagined he was a warrior, with battle wounds. Maybe that wasn’t so far from the truth. He imagined that today, he would fight and win. Yeah, maybe that was going too far.

xxxxxxxx

Downstairs, his father watching him over his coffee (black, 1 sugar), his eyes, dark, merciless, watching like a cat about to spring. Castiel shifted, uncomfortable with the attention, picking at the sickly sweet croissant, in front of him. Part of him hungry, the other part, knowing he didn’t deserve to eat, relishing the pain. No words between the two of them, what more could be said? The silence between the two of them, oppressive, Castiel wanted to apologise, wanted to say he didn’t mean to run, he just wanted it be to ok again. His father got up, looked at his watch and broke the silence;

_“you better hurry, you better not be late on your first day back”_.

_“Of course father”,_ Castiel replied meekly, as his father adjusted his tie for him.

  
First day back at university after a long summer off, Castiel sighed, wrapping his too-large tan trench coat around his thin frame. This was what he had always wanted wasn’t it? To go to university, to learn, to get away from high school and all its narrow-mindedness, maybe even to get away from Zachariah, his father? But it hadn’t worked out that way really. He still felt like a prisoner, still was one, just without the metal bars. Maybe this was just how it was supposed to be, maybe it was just safer this way. At 21, he was still living with his father, he was paying the fees after all. His father had decided the local university would be appropriate, he had also decided that Castiel would be majoring in theology and philosophy, not art (Castiel’s secret dream).

xxxxxx

His father drove him in, the shiny grey BMW glistening in the sun. His father’s hand on his knee, light but a reminder, a reminder of his claim. His aftershave as suffocating as his overbearing presence. Castiel stared out of the window, watching the beautiful houses, all behind their large gates, go past. No people, just beautiful buildings. They lived in “Eden”, a large gated community, (the community tagline: “heaven on earth”). In the community, his father was well-known, might be what could be considered “powerful”, working as a lawyer for a highly reputable company in the city. He knew the “right people” and had strong links with the “Christian Voice” political party and local church. Zachariah Novak was indeed well respected, or perhaps it was more of a case of, well-feared. Castiel was simply known, as the quiet obedient son. He would have possibly even been considered a catch, from a wealthy family and attractive too, with those dark curls, light skin, and crystal-blue eyes that seemed to see into the soul. But well, most girls considered him “kinda weird, or rude, or boring, or whatever”. Not that Castiel minded, he simply wasn’t interested. Anyway his father would never allow him to date, so what was the point? The other brother, no-one could remember his name (possibly Gabriel?) was not discussed in the community, at least not openly. If anyone had an opinion about his whereabouts, it was vague, maybe he gone to find himself in India or maybe he was prison for smuggling drugs, or maybe.......whatever it was, the general consensus was that this brother was simply ungrateful, doing nothing but causing pain to his poor father. He had always been trouble that one. But of course no one mentioned him. Zachariah had made it clear he was to be forgotten. And what of the boys' mother, Zachariah's wife? She had left so long ago, many couldn't remember her at all. Poor Zachariah, it was almost like he was cursed.

xxxxxxxx

They arrived at the university, Castiel unclipped the seatbelt and turned to get out. “What no kiss goodbye for your father?”the voice low, needingly, “of course”, Castiel turned to peek him on the cheek, withdrawing quickly. Zachariah smiled, leaning in, breath hot and sugary, “when you finish your classes, return home immediately, I will be back this evening”. He squeezed Castiel’s thigh, just a bit too hard, “be good”. Out of the car, Castiel realised he had been holding his breath.


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I am English so have no idea of how the American College/university system works...but hey you get the idea....

_“Get your ass down here now, Dean!”_

Bobby Singer shouted up the stairs. Sam grinned into his cereal, Dean was definitely not a morning person.

_“That ijit, he’s a grown man now, why the hell am I still acting like his mom?”_

Bobby came into the kitchen grumbling. Dean followed several seconds, or maybe minutes later.

_“Jees, my freaking head”._

Sam grinned up at his older brother,

 _“Yeah, think you drunk half the bar in that competition”_.

Dean grimaced and sat down gingerly at the breakfast bar, the smell of bacon and eggs that Bobby was cooking, turning his stomach.

“ _That was serious business and yeah I showed them, freaking students”._

_“Yeah, you really showed them, and there was me thinking you were the one who needed his baby brother to come and pick him up, after throwing up in the dumpster”,_

Sam said as he got up, patting his brother on the back.

 _“Bitch”,_ was Dean’s original retort.

  
After a coffee (white, 2 sugars) and some bacon (yeah he forced it down), cold water splashed on his face and a change of clothes, Dean was good to go. Sam had been ready for hours, already excitedly going though his extra reading for his philosophy class that day. His major was in Law, but hey it didn’t hurt to do some extra classes, right? His brother Dean couldn’t understand it, all that studying. Why stay indoors reading a load of boring books, when you could be out, meeting girls, getting drunk, whatever. He also seemed to have an inborn dislike of university students (“freaking students”). This was unfortunate given that the cheapest bars were on campus. As a result, he came across students on a regular basis (which of course was a regular reason to complain about them as much as possible). Sam sighed, he loved his brother more than anything, but he wondered how they could be so different.

  
On campus, Sam got out of Dean’s car, it looked almost comical, his huge body unfolding out of the Impala. Dean wondered how his ‘little’ brother had got so big. _“See ya later, loser”_ Dean called as he sped off. Sam shook his head and turned. First day back and yep, it was gonna be a great year, he could just feel it. The campus was bustling, new students (freshers) looking confused at maps of the sprawling grounds, attempting to find the correct building, others wandering around in a daze with sunglasses as black as their coffee, friends who hadn’t seen each other for several months, shouting, hugging, laughing. Girls with shiny straight hair, clutching piles of books, trying to navigate their quickest way to the library. Mobile phones going off. Some guy on a skateboard getting in everyone’s way. The smell of cigarette smoke (and maybe some other sweeter smell) drifted in the air. Sam loved it. This was exactly the life he had always wanted. He checked his classes again;

Philosophy, 9.30am, Dr Norris. Building 16, Lecture hall 2.

Great! He grabbed a fresh juice at the student cafe, before making his way to the lecture hall. He had already been at the university for two years, so yeah, he knew his way around. As he arrived, there was already a buzz of students, chatting about the summer activities, the upcoming semester, what classes were available. The usual. He slipped into a seat near the back, he liked to remain unobtrusive (well as unobtrusive as a 6ft 4in guy could be). He noticed the guy next to him tensed. Sam almost thought he was going to get up and leave, except for the fact that Sam was sitting at the end of the row, blocking the exit.

 _“Hey, I’m Sam”,_ he smiled and held out his hand. The guy looked down, before taking his hand and giving it a quick shake. _“Castiel”_ , he mumbled. _“What was that, Cas-e-what-ell?”,_ Sam couldn’t remember hearing a name like that before. _“Um, Castiel”,_ the response a bit louder this time. _“Oh cool name...so you majoring in philosophy?”._ _“um yeah, with theology”. “oh wow...”_ the conversation went on like this, with Sam’s enthusiasm and questions gradually drawing (a reluctant) Castiel into what might be considered an actual conversation. Something Castiel was decidedly out of practice with (had he ever been in practice?).

 _“Ok people, I am Dr Norris, and I am taking the philosophy lecture today, starting with....”._ The lecture began, and Sam settled back and started taking notes.

After the lecture finished, the students were expected to meet up in their study group (groups had already been allocated with the timetable). The group was the opportunity to discuss ideas and prepare group presentations. _“Hey Castiel, what group are you in?”_ Sam turned to his neighbour. _“um, group 4, I think”._ _“Oh great, me too, we can go over to the seminar room together, yeah?”_ Sam hoped he wasn’t being annoying, but hey, why not try and make a couple of new friends?

Castiel sighed, this guy was like a friendly puppy, all floppy hair and eager excitement. He guessed this interest was momentary, but still he didn’t like it. He just wanted to be ignored. But what could he do? This stranger had decided to sit next to him and now it looked like they were going to be in the same study group. He was pretty sure that this Sam guy would work out he was weirdo and leave him be, but until that point it looked like he would have to engage with him.


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Trigger warnings: rape  
> Please don't read if this stuff will upset/hurt you

       Zachariah was above him, as Castiel was pinned to the bed on his back. Zachariah holding both his hands above him, gripped in a fist. He was thrusting into his unprepared ass, groaning. Each thrust agony as he ripped inside him, could feel the burning heat, the wrongness. Spearing pain, as he was unwillingly widened against his father’s cock. Zachariah’s sweaty body pressed against him, preventing him fully breathing, and all he wanted to do was scream _“get off, GET OFF”,_ but he couldn’t, he couldn’t. Castiel’s semi-hard cock betraying him, he must be enjoying this, right?

_“So tight”,_ his father moaned _“my little bitch, so tight for his daddy, I know you’re loving this, you little whore”_ , whispered into his ear. Grinding into him, as he was bent in half, no freedom to move. _“Fuck me hard, daddy, fuck me”,_ Castiel whispered, knowing that’s what he wanted to hear. His father pounding inside him, hitting his sweet spot. Castiel gasped, his traitor cock, hard now, jammed between their bodies and leaking precum. _“Fuckkk, Fuck me hard”,_ he repeated, breathing faster, just getting his words out, his father’s body entrapping him. Zachariah slammed into him, the pain mixed in with this wave of pleasure. And then his father was cumming inside him, spilling his seed inside him, panting and kissing him, forcing his tongue inside him. _"You’re mine, you’re my little bitch”,_ his father collapsed on top of him. He stayed inside, could feel his father’s cock softening, but still maintaining its grip. Finally, Zachariah released him, and lay panting on him, before rolling over. Castiel lay, afraid to move away, gently wiping the tears he did not know had fallen. Could feel the cum and blood dripping down his legs. He was disgusting, dirty, worthless. His father rolled back over, pulling him close, spooning. Castiel’s body complied.

xxxxxx

When did it start? But hadn’t it always been that way? Hadn’t be always be owned by his father? Or rather, hadn’t he always been loved by his father?

In the morning, he awoke. His father still wrapped around him, and that sick feeling in his stomach. “But this is love” Castiel thought. His father waking, bringing their faces together, reaching in for a kiss, messy and slow. Part of him screaming “not this, please not this”, another part of him wanting this closeness, gentleness, comfort, wanting his father’s love.

They showered together, his father washing him, cleaning him, inspecting the damage. And he watched his father gently towel him dry before he gently touched the tattoo on the top of Castiel’s back, “Property of Zachariah Novak” written in beautiful black font. He watched his father chose his clothes for him then, fix his tie. And he looked at himself in the mirror and he wondered who is that boy? That man? starimg back at him, with the empty look in his eye. He looked away.

They ate breakfast together, and he watched his father, pour coffee (black, 1 sugar) for him and feed him the croissant. And all this time, it felt like he was far away somewhere, with only the lightest touch holding him to this moment. Like a balloon at the end of a string, he could just float away, if only he just let go. But maybe that was just the medication. He needed it, but he couldn’t remember what for. ADHD, depression, anxiety, psychosis? His father gave him the medication every day, for as long as he could remember. And if he was really good, he would get more. And today Zachariah said he had been really good.

He didn’t have class today, but he had reading to do, assignments to think about. But he could do that later, right now he just wanted to lie down, could feel the medication taking hold. Everything was good, really. His father was talking “so, I'm going to hire someone to come and do the landscaping and he is coming today to have a look, so I should be back early” Castiel nodded. Just so long as he didn’t have to speak to anyone, not without his father present. He knew where that could lead.....jealous accusations, threats....

His father smiled at him. His father was in a good mood. Castiel wanted to make sure he stayed that way. He would do anything to keep his father happy. He leaned in to kiss his father.


	4. Chapter 4

Dean took a swig of beer (yeah it was 2pm, but that was practically the evening, ok?), he was staring at some photos from his latest PI case. Husband X (lets call him, Gerald) entering a “certain type of establishment” (i.e. a brothel). Gerald leaving 1 hour later, smile on his face. Jees, what a sleeze! Dean had had his fair share of women, but never gone as far as paying for it (ok there was this one time, but that was completely different...). He guessed Gerald’s wife (lets call her Tamara), would be happy, this would certainly help her divorce settlement (prenup violated, so she gets half). Dean sighed, this was not the reason he had got into the private investigation business (hmmm although maybe helping rick people screw each other wasn’t that bad). Shit, he looked at the time, he was gonna be late. Taking a last swig of his beer, he grabbed his car keys (drinking made his driving better) and headed out.

Dean arrived at Eden, the gated community (they call it “ _heaven on earth_ ”, Dean rolled his eyes at that one). He waited at the gates for the security guard to go through all the necessary checks before letting him in. “All this place needs is metal bars”, he thought, “freaking rich people”. He drove to the house. Along with the private investigation business he had with Bobby, he had also started developing his own business: odd jobs including gardening, hmmm “landscaping”. Hell he needed the money (let’s just say, Sam’s university fees weren’t cheap, and he was already in debt up to his eyeballs, not that Sam needed to know that).

Dean parked his car outside (another!) set of gates of the house (i.e. mansion) of his potential employer and let out a low whistle. Even from the road, he could see the place was huge. He was trying not to be impressed. More than students, Dean hated rich people, they were all the same. They all believed themselves to be better than him just because they drove fancy cars and owned a big pile of bricks, hell they didn’t know what life was really like. They were weak, living in a dream world. They would never be able to survive a real life, a life like Dean’s. He pushed the intercom system. No answer. He pushed it again. No answer. He checked his watch, he was on time. He pushed it again, and held it longer.

Eventually, a voice crackled, barely audible _“hello?”_ Dean was relieved _“Yeah, Hi, my name is Dean Winchester, I am here about the landscaping”_. Silence. _“Hello?”_ Dean was getting irritated. _“Oh my father isn’t back yet”_ the voice crackled. _“Well do you just want to let me in anyway, I can check it out without him”_. Silence. Dean was now getting really irritated. This stupid guy best not waste his time and just let him in. _“Um, ok”_. The gates swung open. Seriously this place was like fort norx.

Dean trudged up the gravel path and knocked loudly on the huge oak door. No answer. This was getting ridiculous. Suddenly the door swung open and Dean was confronted with the most startling blue eyes he had ever seen. For one moment, he found he couldn’t breathe. This man was just that beautiful. _“Jees, get it together!”_ He found himself thinking. _“He’s a dude!”_ But if Dean was flustered, the man before him didn’t seem to notice. Dean realised he was slightly swaying, hmm was he drunk?! Dean gave a slight cough, _“so um the garden”._ The blue-eyed angel (hell, this was the only way he could describe him) looked at him:

_“huh?....ohhhhh yeah, come in!”_

Dean was escorted through the hall and through a set of doors, into another room, and then another; each room as white and clean and bland as the one before. And then he was led through some French doors onto a patio, where he was then presented with the garden. Dean let out another whistle. It was huge.

_“I don’t know what my father wants”_

The blue-eyed angel waved his hand nonchalantly at the garden, before flopping down onto a cream-coloured sun lounger next to the pool. It was kindof weird, he was wearing a full on suit and tie, not exactly sunbathing attire. He started sipping at a clear looking fluid through a straw, and damn it, Dean couldn’t help but stare. Those perfect cupid-shaped lips gently sipping the straw with just the right suction......oh god, what the hell was wrong with him? Hadn’t all those “wrong” thoughts disappeared after that therapy he went through a couple of years ago? Dean forced himself to look away. He grabbed his notepad from his back pocket and started to wander around. After about 20 minutes, Dean felt that he had seen enough and had even started to think of some ideas, but without the owner to discuss things with, he didn’t know what else he could do. He went back to the angel. He appeared to be practically passed out on the lounger. Dean grimaced, he might be pretty, but hell, he was also just a another waster rich boy, just living off daddy and getting drunk all day. Dean leaned over and shook him slightly on the shoulder. The guy woke with a start and Dean found himself up close and personal with those blue eyes. The moment seemed to last forever, before he pulled himself away. _“Right, so, um.......”_ Dean coughed.

_“I see you have met Castiel”,_ a steely voice behind him stated. Dean turned to find a middle aged man standing by the patio doors. He was tall, well-built and would have been attractive, had it not been for the sharpness in his face, the cutting coldness of his blue eyes and the faint hint of cruelty in his thin lips. _“I am Zachariah Novok and you must be Mr Winchester”._ His smile was easy and slow, his manner congenial as he offered his hand. So why then did Dean feel like he was being assessed, considered, like a small creature before a hungry predator? Dean glanced over at the son (what was that name, Cas-something?), who seemed to have found composure, sitting alert, blue eyes on his father. “ _Apologies for arriving late, I hope my son has shown you around”._

30 minutes later, Dean was shown the door, pretty sure that he had been able to win over Mr Novak with his ideas. Yeah Mr Novak seemed like an alright guy, well for a rich guy anyway. Although there was something.....Dean silenced his inner voice without realising. As he drove home, he found himself thinking again about the Novak family. He decided that the son, Cas, was a right douche; he couldn’t even be bothered to get off his ass to show him around....hmmm that ass. Dean silenced his thoughts, this time he was fully aware he was doing it.


	5. Chapter 5

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Trigger warnings: Rape described, please don't read if will upset / hurt you

          As soon as Dean had arrived, Castiel knew he was screwed. He knew he could either let the guy in and his father would get angry that he had entertained a guest alone or he could refuse to let him in, and his father would get angry that he had turned _“the help”_ away. His mind was fuzzy, unable to make a decision and the guy was yelling at him through the intercom (ok maybe not yelling, but he had that insistent tone that Castiel found hard to refuse). And then when he opened the door, Castiel almost fell over himself, this guy was just that hot. Green eyes, reminding him of a forest dappled with sunlight, tanned skin and a toned body beneath a tight black AC/DC shirt (oh yeah a body to absolutely die for). Castiel never lusted after anyone, not ever, not really. He just found sex and bodies just too disgusting, too shameful. But this guy, this guy was making him sweat. He tried to play it cool, the medication numbing him despite his growing heat. He sauntered through the house and grabbed the vodka and lemonade (well 5 parts vodka, 1 part lemonade still counts as V &L right?) as soon as he could. He didn’t know what to say, he never knew what to say, so stupid. So he let Dean wander around the garden by himself. He wished he could go over, make conversation. But then what would be the point? He sighed. He was definitely not worthy even being a quick fuck from that sort of man. He was just worthless, ugly, disgusting. Besides his father.....

          And then of course, that happened. Dean leaning over him. And he was breathing Dean in, a faint smell of leather, tinge of whiskey, oil, the outdoors, masculinity. Castiel felt terrified and excited all that same time. And then Dean pulled away, and Zachariah was standing there, with that smile, that smile that didn’t reach his eyes. And then Castiel was just terrified.

He had to wait for Dean to leave before his punishment.

xxxxxxxx

           A week had passed since his father’s punishment. It had been....unpleasant. His father had seen Dean leaning over Castiel and fixated on the idea that Castiel had been trying to seduce Dean, just like he had seduced Zachariah all those years ago. What had followed was not something Castiel wanted to remember. Unfortunately, the marks and bruises on his back, thighs and abdomen along with the shooting pain in his body at the slightest movement acted as a jarring reminder.

His father had pulled him into the house, into the bedroom, barely able to control his rage;

" _what the FUCK were you doing with that boy, you little slut?"_

Zachariah screamed as he punched him in the ribs. _“Trying your slutty tricks on him?”_ Zachariah had kicked him hard _“So who do you want more, me or him?”._ Castiel yelped and cowered against the wall; his mind fuzzy still from the medication and alcohol.“ _You, daddy, always you, please, please”_ , Castiel begged as he tried to defend himself against the onslaught of kicks and punches. But his father hadn’t been appeased. He punched him in the face and Castiel was on the floor, Zachariah continued hitting him, punching his face over and over. His face red, eyes bulging. He suddenly stopped, breathing heavily before spitting on Castiel’s face. He got up then, but Castiel knew it wasn’t over. He was right. When Zachariah returned, he had brought his toys. He ripped off Castiel’s clothes. He tied his hands with rope. Castiel cried out as it burnt and cut into his fragile wrists. Zachariah had used his favourite toy then, his whip, cruelly slicing into Castiel’s thin body without mercy. Not even his cock was spared the assault. He had screamed whilst his father had paid particular attention to whipping his member into a bloody mess, before kicking his most sensitive area over and over. The white searing pain taking over Castiel, blinding him and then he could scream no more. _"So? Who do you want more, bitch? Me or him?"_ His father still so angry spitting out his words. _“I’m sorry, I’m sorry,, I only want you, daddy”_. Castiel had been close to hysterical, knowing what would happen next. His father grabbed at his flaccid, bloody cock, squeezing it and attempting to coach some interest, with little success. And with that his father had climbed on top of him and unzipped his pants. He spat on his hands and rubbed it on his cock. Castiel had known that this was all the lube he could expect his father to use. His tears had stopped and he had turned his head to look out of the window at the blue, blue sky. Just waiting for it to happen, waiting for it to be done. And then his father had been fully inside him with just one thrust. Invading him, taking him, violating him, tearing him, moaning in pleasure as he pushed further and further. And Castiel had screamed, but his voice was horse and he barely made a sound. And as his father continued to pound into him, he lay lifeless beneath him. Almost numb to the pain, his mind was elsewhere, floating. Everything was distant. When finally Zachariah had reached his orgasm and tired of him, he had dragged Castiel’s semi-conscious body to the empty cupboard in the basement, that that was used for such punishments and shoved him in.

_“You are mine, my property, you belong to me”._ His father’s tone dark, adamant but sweeter than honey.

He left him there then, with only a bottle of water and a packet of crackers to sustain him, left him there in the black, coffin-like closet for the next two days. And he crouched in his own shit and piss, his muscles cramping, for the next two days. Locked there, with only his punishing thoughts, the oppressive darkness and the painful withdrawal from the medication for the next two days. And Castiel had understood the message only too well. His body was not his own. His life was not his own.

xxxxxxx

             Afterwards, his father had released him, cooing over him, tending his wounds, washing him, hugging him, like a strangler vine, tighter and tighter. And Castiel had been so relieved at the end of his painful isolation, so relieved that his father loved him again, that he had hugged him back, kissed him back. And then he had lain back on the bed for his father, opening his legs, whilst his father had inspected his hole further. He had clenched as his father had wormed a single digit into him; _“I’ll be gentle with you baby, just relax”_ his father croaned over him, kissing his chest and then running his other hand over Castiel’s legs and body. He put another finger in and started scissoring _“mmmm so good, my boy”_ , his father’s voice heavy and thick. And then he added a further two fingers, stretching Castiel out as he writhed beneath him. Zachariah knew it was hurting him, knew that Castiel’s ass was sore and torn from their previous playtime together, but Castiel was his, to do as he pleased. Besides he could tell that the dirty little slut wanted it.

           Zachariah released his fingers then, sitting back and surveying Castiel’s beauty. He took in his slim body’ scarred from his previous assaults, took in the recent bruises and cuts; angry welts still visible on his cock, a patchwork of bruises on his thighs and ass. Zachariah licked his lips. “ _Look at me, boy”_ he commanded. And as Castiel obediently opened his blue eyes, full attention on him, Zachariah could feel his cock harden; he owned this boy absolutely and completely. _“You want this don’t you”_ Zachariah pointed to his own cock, _“You want it inside you, don’t you?”,_ Zachariah leant down to kiss him, his fingers resuming their attack inside him. He pulled them out again, fingering Castiel’s stretched rim; _“This is mine”_ he said before trailing his fingers along Castiel’s hardening cock; and then reaching down to pull Castiel’s balls, massaging them into his hand _“and this is all mine too”_ , his hand trailing up Castiel’s body, over his hips, stomach, coming to his nipples, pinching them hard so that they raised to attention. He moved his hand further up, coming to rest on Castiel’s neck, imposing a slight pressure, pushing on Castiel’s Adam’s apple, pushing harder again, so breathing was slightly more laboured. Zachariah kissed him lightly. He looked at Castiel, his hand still on his throat; _“say it”_ , he commanded. Castiel took his father’s hand, interlacing it with his fingers _“I belong to you, father”_. Zachariah smiled _“I own you”_ and releasing his fingers from Castiel, he flipped him over to his stomach and pulled him to his knees, exposing his ass, lusting after that tight hole. He grabbed some lube, rubbing it over himself. Then he positioned himself, taking his cock and pressing it to Castiel’s entrance; _“I can remember the first time you took my cock, knew then you were made for it, knew you were made for me”_. And then he was pushing inside slowing, could feel the way that Castiel’s tight walls gripped him, leaning over and whispering into Castiel’s ear _“this is all mine, only I decide who you fuck”._ He pulled out slightly, gripping onto his son’s hips and then pushed himself further, starting to set up a rhythm. His body pressed over Castiel, his son taking all his weight. He pushed Castiel’s head into the pillow, stifling his cries and then he was digging his nails into Castiel’s back, drawing blood. And he felt himself going over the edge then, losing it, saw his boy crushed, could hear him calling his name, his muffled and strained; _“daddy, daddy, daddy”._ And he was pushing into him more forcefully again and again, fucking him into the mattress, their bodies slapping together, the bed’s headboard violently hitting the wall. And he could feel the tsunami-like build up inside him and then he was cumming, violent hot spurts inside his son. And then he was kissing his son’s shoulders, his back, turning him over, his lips, his chest, saying over and over _“you are mine, you are mine”_. He didn’t see his son’s tears, the emptiness in his eyes, or if he did, he didn’t care.

And so things continued as they always had been.


	6. Chapter 6

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Trigger warnings: panic attack

                  It was 3pm on a Thursday afternoon. Castiel found himself standing outside Sam’s house. It was the first time he had left the house since the punishment. His face had healed so it was ok to go out. But movement was still difficult, but no one needed to know about that. He clutched his phone (I-Phone XX, latest addition) and his bag (weighed down with philosophy books). He rubbed his wrists together nervously. The marks from the rope binding were still visible and so he pulled the sleeves of his trench coat down to cover them. Castiel hadn’t been to another student’s house, not ever. In fact, the last time he had been to one of his peer’s house was when he was 10 (and that hadn’t ended well). True this wasn’t a social call (the study group had decided to meet at Sam’s house to catch up on some work). However, for Castiel, this was still a big deal, a really big deal. He knocked (maybe more of a tap really) and almost immediately Sam flung open the door. His huge frame taking up the door way. _“Hellloooooo dude”_ , Sam’s smile was infectious and Castiel felt himself smiling back despite his nerves.

xxxxx

               The first thing that greeted Castiel as he stepped into the Singer-Winchester home, was the mess (boots strewn across the corridor, parts of bikes and other machinery piled up, faded wallpaper peeling off the walls), the noise (rock music was playing from the kitchen, tv playing in the front room), the smell (oil, mixed with something which had been fried...and then burnt, a faint hint of masculine deodorant spray)....the sensations that greeted him weren’t necessarily all the pleasant, but instantly he felt like.....he fitted. Sam gestured him into the house, after locking the front door – _“Jess is a bit freaked out by this area”_ , he smiled conspiratorially at Castiel _“but it’s really not that bad!”_ Castiel smiled weakly, he was inclined to agree with Jess, this area of town seemed a lot rougher than the community. Indeed, Castiel was not used to being out of the safety of the community. He followed Sam into the front room. The others (Jess, Ruby) from the group had already arrived but they were too engrossed with the TV show (featuring some obnoxious looking woman, called “Snookie”) so barely noticed Castiel as he walked into the room (taking in the chaos; the old leather couch, the cracked windows, the chair with only three legs, the piles of papers and books everywhere). Sam turned the TV off, much to the distress of both girls, although by the way they both looked up at him, Castiel figured that they weren’t that mad with him (yeah the reason they were both here had little to do with studying). “ _So hey..I guess we should get started”._ Sam smiled over at Castiel.

xxxxx

             Dean was at the student bar aka “the pit”. It really was a dive, but hey it was cheap drinks and even cheaper women. Despite all this, he was pretty fucking depressed. Damn it, he was in so much debt right now. And there was that other thing that was bothering him, those blue eyes, that Cas. He was keeping him up at night. Hell, he had been woken himself up the other night, moaning and writhering over a dream about fucking this guy. His sheets a mess of sweat and stickiness. This was definitely not cool. He needed to get himself some pussy, like yesterday. But the pit was pretty dead at 3pm and besides he had some stuff to do for Bobby, so he downed the rest of his whiskey and went to find the impala (yeah drinking definitely made his driving better). He pulled up outside the house. He knew it looked a bit like a shambles, all faded blue paint and dirty windows. The wooden porch looked like it had decidedly better days and there was a rusty car on the driveway (Bobby’s pet project which had never quite got off the ground). But hell, it was home, which was damn sight more than he had had growing up. Hmmm unhappy childhood, check, daddy issues, check, god he was such a cliché. He went to open the front door, only to find it was locked. What the fuck? And oh shit, he had forgotten his keys. He banged loudly on the door. He wondered if Sam had locked the door because he had a girl in there. He had mentioned someone recently. Lucky bastard. The door opened and for a second time, Dean was greeted with an intense pair of blue eyes. In. his. doorway. What the fuck? He was almost too stunned to say anything. The man in his front door continued to stare at him, he tilted his head as if trying to solve a particularly complex puzzle (god, that was so cute, Dean noticed absent-mindedly). And oh god, what must Cas think of this shit pile?

_“What are you doing here, Cas?”_ Dean managed weakly. He wondered if this was the “girl” that Sam had been talking about. He brushed that thought away, no way, Sam was 100% heterosexual (lucky bastard). A long pause, before Castiel looked down and mumbled out the words _“um, oh er, sorry, um, study group, Sam..doing a study group with Sam.....”_ Castiel trailed off and resumed his stare. Was Cas nervous? Was Cas blushing? Dean wondered. Surely not! Suddenly Dean realised he had been standing on the porch of his own house for what seemed like forever, participating in a mutual staring competition....Dean stomped into his house, pushing past Cas. Stupid Cas, with his stupid blue eyes, the last thing he needed was some stupid, jumped up rich kid student hanging around his house, he thought angrily. _“Well don’t take too long”_ he growled and went off to hide in Bobby’s office to do some important work (aka watch reruns of “Dr Sexy MD”).

xxxxx

              Castiel went back to the study group. Sam, Ruby and Jess sat in various positions in the Singer-Winchester front room. Notes and books scatted about along with a large pot of (now cold) coffee and biscuits (and oh yeah some beers, definitely necessary when doing work about whether God exists or not). Sam looked up as Castiel came back into the room, _“I see you met my brother, sorry he is a dick”._ ( _"I heard that"_ was shouted downstairs, by a disgruntled Dean, who defintely was not listening). Castiel was too stunned to say anything. He had thought he would probably never see Dean (aka the hottest guy ever), again. Zachariah had told him he would keep him locked in his room when Dean came around. He leant against the wall. Dean had called him Cas, almost like a nickname? Like an endearing nickname? He had never been called Cas before, he liked it. But oh god, what if his father found out he had seen Dean? Castiel balked at the idea, oh no, oh no, oh no....He felt dizzy, he began to slide down the wall, his heart racing. He found he couldn’t quite catch his breath, and the more he tried, the more he couldn’t breathe, what if he was having some sort of seizure, what if he was dying? The thoughts flashed through his mind. And he felt the panic rising up within him, could feel the adrenaline surge. And suddenly he was struggling for breath, the room spinning, he couldn’t get control....Ruby was the first to realise what was happening. She knelt beside him, getting eye-contact and gently saying his name and asking him to focus on her as she began to breathe slowly and deeply whilst counting. Gradually Castiel began to gain control. And then he felt tearful and so ashamed. So stupid, such a stupid....He could barely look at the others whilst he remained crouched against the wall.

_“Dude are you ok?”_. Sam’s brown eyes, opened wide and brimming with concern. _“Sure, sorry, just happens sometimes”_ , Castiel panted slightly _“I should go”_. _“Yeah of course, if you want, or you can stay, it’s ok”_. Sam was worried about Castiel. It had freaked him out, one minute this guy seemed normal (albeit as normal as this guy would ever be) and the next he was on the floor, struggling for breath like, well, like a fish when it had been pulled out of water. _“Um, if you want to go, that’s fine, but I’ll get my bro to give you a lift back, I would do it, but I’ve had those beers”_ (Sam didn’t share Dean’s views regarding the value of drinking on his driving ability). Castiel felt sick but said _“there’s no need, I can walk”_. _“Nah don’t be dumb, I’ll get Dean to do it”_ and before Castiel could say anything, Sam was bellowing up the stairs _“DEANNNNNNNNN, get down here, Cas needs you”._

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In the car, on the way to Castiel’s house, both occupants silent, the atmosphere tense. Dean was pissed, outwardly he had complained that he didn’t have time to do this extra driving when he was VERY busy doing important work. Inwardly he was...he couldn’t explain, but he just knew he didn’t want to spend more time with this stupid guy, this stupid guy with the deepest blue eyes, sex-tousled curls and tightest of asses (oh god, his ass...). Whilst Dean was contemplating Castiel’s ass, Castiel lent his head against the window and sighed gently. He dreaded going back to the house; the cold, silent rooms, his father’s suffocating presence which seeped into every empty space and the just never knowing; never knowing what mood his father would be in, what his father would do, never knowing how to make things better.....He always got it wrong. Dean heard Castiel’s gentle sigh, and took a side-wards peak. He just looked so lost, so sad. And looking closer, Dean noticed the dark circles under Castiel’s eyes, almost bruised in appearance, the extreme paleness of his skin, his fragile thinness. And despite himself, Dean felt an urge to draw him close, to hold him....“ _So er, I guess I will be starting work for your dad soon”,_ Dean awkwardly made an attempt to initiate conversation (he had got the call yesterday, confirming his employment). Castiel just turned to look at him, doing his head-cocking thing (arrahhh, so cute). Dean rubbed the back of his neck nervously, _“You know, I don’t just do people’s gardens, I do loads of other things, did Sam tell you I work as a private investigator as well?”_ Oh God, Dean thought, what the frack am I doing? Am I really trying to impress Cas? However, it seemed to work, Cas did indeed look suitably impressed. _“Oh...I didn’t know that”,_ his voice serious, with just a hint of interest. And so during the rest of the trip, Dean had continued to babble away about his PI job, pies and anything else he could think of, whilst Castiel nodded and made the occasional comment. Dean even noticed him smile once. It changed his whole face; it made him radiant.

But when they arrived at the community gates, Castiel’s face had closed like a cupboard door. They sat awkwardly for a moment. Castiel didn’t want to leave the safety of the car. Wanted to stay here, with this man with a goofy grin, who talked too much about pies and who smelt so damn good. And part of Dean didn’t want him to leave either. And then without realising what he was doing, Dean lent forward and kissed Castiel. Softly. Lips brushing gently. But before Castiel could gather his thoughts, Dean was pushing him away. _“I think you should go”_ .His voice low, barely audible, looking away. Castiel didn’t understand. But of course, he wasn’t good enough for someone as perfect as Dean.

And as he walked away, all grace and elegance, Dean watched him go. What the hell had he happened? He must have been possessed. Yeah that must have been it.

As he drove home, thoughts of how beautiful Cas was, arose uninvited, unwanted, like extra guests at a wedding. With great effort, Dean pushed those thoughts down, no, not beautiful, Cas was weird, far too serious and annoyingly quiet, probably thought he was too good to talk to Dean....but then other thoughts lay waiting, pushing forward, like eager children. Thoughts about how mysterious Cas was, a mystery that Dean found himself wanting to unravel...and thoughts about how gentle Cas appeared, almost vulnerable and with that thought, Dean felt his cock twitch. In record timing, Dean lent forward and turned on the radio, loud rock music drowning out his intrusive thoughts.


	7. Chapter 7

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Trigger warning: rape and self-harm. These are topics close to my heart. Take care of yourselves x

Arriving at the house, his father not yet there, Castiel made his way to the kitchen. He would need to prepare the evening meal for when Zachariah returned...and he also knew he would need to clean the house. Despite the fact that every room was pristine, sterile even, Castiel knew that his father required a heavenly standard of cleanliness, which meant that cleaning every day was a necessity. 

            By the time his father walked through the door, it was late. The casserole he had made was still warming in the oven. The house spotless and smelling strongly of bleach. Castiel hadn’t eaten yet, would only eat when his father gave him permission. He was upstairs in his room, lying on his bed, exhausted and staring at the ceiling. Even when his father wasn’t there, he never played music or watched TV. It was like the house didn’t allow him to make noise; it felt wrong to break the tension that this house seemed to breed. He thought again about Dean, the kiss. So gentle. He had never been kissed like that. His experience was that of stolen, brutal kisses or kisses given to keep peace, to keep him safe. He touched his lips. He wanted to feel that kiss again. But Dean had pushed him away, hadn’t wanted him. It should be a relief, it would be bad enough if his father found out that he had been in the same house as Dean, let alone that he shared with a kiss with him. God, Castiel did not want to think about the punishment that his father would give him for that. He just hoped no one had seen anything. He knew how people in the community gossiped. Just thinking about this possibility made Castiel's chest tighten. But then there was also a part of him that was desperately disappointed that Dean hadn't wanted to continue the kiss. Perhaps he found Castiel disgusting or dirty? Castiel sighed. That was probably it. Besides it was stupid, there was no room in his life for anyone but his father. He was surprised at himself for not feeling more guilty that he had basically cheated on his father......god he hoped his father didn't find out. And so his thoughts went around and around like a washing machine on a speed cycle. 

      And then he heard his father’s footsteps. He could tell immediately what sort of mood he was in, panic gripped his chest in a vice; _“just stay calm”_ he told himself. His father opened his bedroom door slowly, leaning in the doorway, taking Castiel in. He looked dishevelled, tired even. _“Where’s dinner, honey?”_ his voice level, with just a hint of malice. _“Of course, father, it’s ready, I will just....”._ But before he could finish, his father strode across the room, straddling Castiel on the bed, leaning over him, stroking his face, running his fingers through his hair, staring into his eyes. “So beautiful, my boy”, he whispered. Castiel just lay there, familiar feelings of sickness overrode him, his hunger gone now. His mind, his body felt like they were slowing down. Zachariah swung off him and lay next to him on the bed, still staring into his eyes, stroking his face. It would have been romantic, if it hadn’t been his father. He swallowed and tried to look away, but Zachariah just grabbed his face and turned it toward him. _“I’ve had a tough day, dear, want you to make me feel better”,_ and then he undid his pants, grabbed Castiel’s hair and pushed his head now, so that Castiel was faced with his father’s semi-hard, thick, red cock. He knew what to do, had done this so many times before. And there was no question that he would do it again. He hollowed his cheeks before taking the cock into his mouth, letting his tongue glide all over it, following the vein and licking underneath, before coming to the head and playing there. Then slowly opening his mouth wider, taking his father’s cock deeper into his mouth, sucking with just the right pressure, teeth covered, then taking his father’s cock deeper into his throat, gag-reflex long gone. His father moaned above him; _“that’s it my little bitch.....your mouth was made for this”._ Castiel tried to drown him out, tried to focus on the job in hand. His father grabbed his hair, painfully pulling at it, holding his head steady as he fucked shamelessly into his mouth. Castiel trying to match the pace, keeping his jaw locked, thinking of nothing else but sucking and breathing. And then he felt it-his father’s cum-hit the back of his throat, bitter and thick as he swallowed it all down. His father pulled up his pants; _“What’s for dinner, son?”_

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               Sometimes it just felt like this loneliness was a living thing, chasing him, devouring him whole. And sometimes in moments of clarity, when he was in the state between sleeping and wakefulness, he could feel the edges of it, the great dark emptiness that lived and breathed inside of him. His greatest fear being that he would fall inside it’s blackness and be consumed by it. He was just so alone with these demons that sought to feed upon him. And there was no one to care, no one to save him. Because there was no saving him.

And yet he carried on, carried on breathing, even when it seemed like this simple act was just like climbing Kilimanjaro. He carried on silent, cold and unchanged, like a statue, impervious and watching the world dance and living it’s life, knowing he wasn’t invited. He was just an observer, an outsider. And sometimes he stared at himself in the mirror, trying to see himself, trying to know who he was. But all he saw was the emptiness that lay beyond his irises. And he was numb, as cold inside as a northern winter, keeping his feelings locked away and somehow he had lost the key. But then there times, in unbidden moments, they would come back, his feelings, crushing in upon him, drowning him, holding him down. He just had to keep running....keep on breathing.....keep on running.

But if looked inside himself for long enough, it was still there, the thing living within him, the hate, the hurt, the loneliness. And it made his heart bleed. And he would feel then the rush of hatred through his body, the absolute despair of being alive. And he wanted to hurt, to see the pain on his body that he felt so vividly within. It was unbearable, unmanageable, this darkness inside.

But he had learnt a way to release the hidden demon; it came in the way of a razor, his nails, a knife, sharp keys, a cigarette, instruments that could cut and burn the demon out.

And he wanted to hurt himself, embraced the pain, like an old friend, he deserved the punishment. But in the end it didn’t feel like punishment, felt more like a release. And he admired the way the razor left long bleeding cuts on his arms and legs, so beautiful. And it felt like the pain had ended, felt like euphoria. But it was never really gone. The demon came back, bigger and stronger. And so Castiel had to keep cutting and burning, until his arms and legs were scarred, reminders of the demon that would not die.


	8. Chapter 8

The day after Dean had dropt Castiel off at the house, the day after the kiss, Dean was found passed out, lying face down on the floor in the front room. It was Sam who found him that way in the morning; the room already light, sun creeping through the holes in the curtains. The room littered with several whiskey bottles. Sam sighed, it seemed like the one thing Dean had gained from their deadbeat dad was the capacity to drink more than most humans. But instead of leaving him there on the floor, Sam gently tapped him on the shoulder, when that didn’t work, a more insistent shove, oh god, maybe he’s.....Sam didn’t finish the thought, as Dean jolted back into action, _“arrrahhhh my head”_.

Sam left him at home to recover, said he would catch the bus to university. He had tried to help Dean up, had tried to offer him a drink ( _coffee? Water? Not more whiskey!_ ), suggested painkillers, breakfast, a shower. All attempts were swiped away, like an angry bear fighting a bee. So he had left him at home, frustrated that his attempts to care for his older brother were rejected. They always were. Instead it had always been Dean that had cared for Sam. It had been that way ever since they were little. Dean had taken care of Sam because no one else would. Their father, John, so often lost to the nearest pub, wasted and delirious, or when he did find his way home, so often angry and shouting at his children, the neighbours, or just shadows on the wall. Or worse still, would be the times, when they would find him shaking and crying. He would whisper through his tears that they needed to move on, that they couldn’t stay. That they were being hunted and it wasn’t safe. So Dean and Sam would pack up their meagre belongings and the family would move on again. It was always just the three of them. Their mother was dead, burnt alive in a freak fire. Sam had never known her, but Dean told him stories about her. How wonderful she was, how kind, how caring. Sometimes it sounded like he was describing an angel, not a real person.

And then one day, when Dean was about 16 and Sam was 14, their father disappeared. He just didn’t come home. At first the brothers just thought he had gone on an extra long holiday with his two favourite girls (whiskey and gin). But after 5 days and no word, they began to worry. Because even though their father was mostly drunk, neglectful and sometimes even physically abusive, both boys found that there was part of themselves that still felt love for him. And so they called his phone and left messages. And they called all the people they could think of who might know their father’s whereabouts (i..e. the landlord of John’s favourite pubs, the local loan shark, and Bobby, their dad’s childhood friend). No one would knew. But Bobby took pity on the boys. Although he and John had become somewhat estranged, he didn’t think it was right to leave the boys of his once-best friend, all alone. At first, the brothers coming to stay, was just a temporary arrangement, just until John got back. But as the days stretched into weeks and then months, Bobby had found himself dreading John’s return. Thought he would miss Sam’s kindness, his eagerness to learn everything Bobby had to offer; would miss Dean’s toughness, which hid the softness underneath; would miss the brothers’ cheeky banter, their noise around the place lightening things up. Bobby hated to admit it but before the boys had come, he had been lonely. But John never returned, was never found. When Dean had got older and he and Bobby had started the PI business, they had tried to look for him, but without success. Bobby had just patted Dean on the shoulder and said gruffly _“some people just don’t want to be found, but I’m here for you and your brother, for as long as you need me”_. And with that, Dean had got up and hugged him.

Xxxxxxx

Dean had never been in love....in lust perhaps, but never love. Had dated girls, had fucked them, some had names, some did not. Slim brunettes, busty blondes or athletic redheads, he was never that picky. And once there had even been a guy, ok, maybe more than once.....the first guy, his name was Garth, just some skinny kid that Dean had met outside a bar. Dean had only been 15 and didn’t have a chance of getting in, but hell he had tried anyway. His attempt was unsuccessful. Garth was also there trying his luck (he was also very underage) and like Dean, made an unsuccessful attempt (the bouncers laughing in his face). They had both sat on the curb then, bemoaning their age and the cruelty of not being allowed into what looked like the promised land to them (but was in fact just an extremely dirty bar). Dean couldn’t remember exactly how it happened. Just remembered noticing Garth’s slim lines, his shy smile, his sweet face and even sweeter ass. And somehow he had ended up in an alley outside the bar, crazily, hungrily making out with Garth. He had tried to forget about it, it was disgusting, he was a man, no way there was chance he was weak; effeminate; gay. But several months later, it happened again.

This time the guy was called Kevin, was the son of the owner of the motel complex they were staying in. He had the whole Asian thing going on. Dean had ignored him at first, but then like some bad porn movie, Kevin had come to fix some electrical problem in the room (smart kid, he was in advanced placement at school). Dean didn’t remember how it started, but he remembered how it had finished....somehow their lips had been crushed together as Kevin lay gasping beneath him on the bed in the motel room that he shared with Sammy. His dad was out drinking and his brother was getting supplies so they didn’t have to rush. But they did anyway and things got heavy quickly as they both ripped off each other’s clothes....and then of course, John walked in. And he was pissed. Dean didn’t see Kevin after that. Was lucky Kevin didn’t press charges. John had punched him in the face before turning to Dean. He had put him in the hospital for a week. John wasn’t going to have a faggot for a son, and if it meant he had to kick the gayness out of him, then so be it. Sam had never quite learnt the reason for Dean’s visit to the hospital, was just told that Dean had made some bad choices, but he wouldn’t be making them again. And Dean had really meant it, didn’t want to be that guy, didn’t want his father’s disapproval. He promised John that he wouldn’t make those bad choices again. But he did.

When he was 21, he had decided he needed to get it out of his system. So without leaving it to chance, he had hired a professional; Jimmy, a prostitute. He had been tall, but shorter than Dean with bright blue eyes and a wicked smile. They had gone for a drink in a bar first and then gone back to a motel room in the nearby area. But Dean hadn’t gone through with it, had wanted to.....but Jimmy had drugged him and taken his money. He woke up the next day, a banging headache, no money and nothing to show for it. He decided his father was right, being gay was a bad choice.

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        After Dean arrived from dropping Castiel off that day, he headed to the shower. He felt sweaty, on edge; needed the cool water to refresh him. Standing under the spray, he thought again of Cas....imagined telling Cas what a rich-ass loser he was, that there was no way in hell that he would want him....imagined Cas’ crushed face, imagined him crying....and then he was wiping away those tears, hugging him, lightly kissing those full lips, touching him everywhere, exploring with his hands and mouth.....Dean felt the blood rushing to cock and reaching down, grasping his hard flesh in a fist, feeling his arousal. He groaned at the pleasure of his touch combined with his thoughts of Cas underneath him, begging for it.....moving his hand faster in a firm rhythm, his breathing erratic as he imagined himself thrusting into Cas’ tight ass; and then saw Cas moving above him, riding his cock,.....oh god, it was ecstasy...could feel the painful tension within him and he was riding the waves. He came in his hand then, shouting Cas’ name as the water poured over him...... the pleasure dissipating before the guilt and disgust edged in......but the image of Castiel straddling him, kissing him, rutting and rubbing himself remained imprinted in his mind....Dean needed a drink., needed several drinks. In the morning, Sam found him passed out in the front room.


	9. Chapter 9

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Content warning: drug abuse

Several nights later..... Castiel was straddling him, kissing him, rutting and rubbing himself against....the other man’s cock. It was disgusting but at least this made him feel in control, not like the times when he was passive, held down and fucked. The club’s music was hard and loud in “The Cage” (the dirtiest gay club in town) and the air smelled of sex and desperation. The occupants masked their hungry eyes with feigned smiles and cocaine. He looked down at the guy he was straddling, just some random guy (maybe his name was Ty? Or Tom?) greasy black hair plastered to his sweaty, chubby face. Definitely not attractive - but Castiel was too high to care. He just needed a distraction; to feel something other than this eternal emptiness. The guy’s hands were pinching and grabbing his ass whilst Castiel arched his back, riding the guy’s cock through his pants. It was dark in this part of the club, but another guy, was sitting close by, watching them, rubbing himself with a lewd smile on his face. But Castiel didn’t care. The guy was opening Castiel’s pants now, almost withdrawing with shock when he felt the piercings on Castiel’s cock, before widely grinning; _“kinky bastard”,_ he whispered. Castiel just lent down and let the guy’s lizard-like tongue enter his mouth. He didn’t tell him that his piercings were courtesy of his father’s kink rather than his own. And then the guy was opening his own flies, releasing his hard cock, a bottle of lube appeared from nowhere, and he was rubbing it on himself and on his fingers, pushing the slicked up digits into Castiel, as Castiel rocked against them. And then Castiel was pushing them away, he didn’t want foreplay, just needed to fuck into oblivion. And he wanted it to hurt. He pulled down his pants and briefs and crouched over the guy’s cock, gradually impaling himself onto it, feeling it fill him up, fucking him bare-back – so what if he got an STD? And he sat there for a moment, balls deep in cock before he started moving, fucking roughly into the guy’s cock, taking it all. And then that’s all he could feel, his ass filled and burning with cock, and beyond that just the coke coursing through his veins and the music’s beat taking over his mind. And for a moment he felt fantastic. And then the guy came, but he did not. He climbed off him. And he pulled up his clothes and walked towards the bathroom. He might have felt shame if he hadn’t been so high.

xxxxxx

Castiel didn’t make these trips to “the Cage” often; he didn’t have much choice, he could only get away when his father went away on a business trip. At such times, he would either stay with Zachariah’s friends or failing that, Zachariah would lock him in the house, changing the security code of the gates and instructing the security guard at the community entrance not to allow Castiel to leave the community, if he tried. But when that happened, Balthazar would usually manage to break him out of the house, circumventing the security system. Then it was just a matter of hiding in the car trunk, whilst Balthazar drove casually past the unsuspecting guard. And why would he suspect? After all Balthazar was a resident of the community.

But whilst Balthazar had helped him out, Castiel wouldn’t describe him as a friend. More a business associate. That he is, he supplied Castiel with all the additional medication (i.e. weed, vicodin, cocaine...) that he could want.

Castiel had known of Balthazar most of his life, just from living in the community. There had been some sort of banking scandal. His father had been implicated in the corruption and later imprisoned. His mother had a keener business sense, and promptly divorced Balthazar’s father and remarried into old money, moving the family into the community. So everyone knew of Balthazar’s family and the scandal which held them like a dead man’s grip, refusing to let them go. But for Castiel, it wasn’t until seventh grade that he actually spoke to Balthazar. It had been after school. Balthazar had found him crying and alone in the boys bathroom, not wanting to go home. And he had offered him the only comfort he knew – marijuana. The first moment Castiel had inhaled the thick toxic smoke (after he recovered from coughing) he had felt peace wash over him. And so it began; their business arrangement. It meant he had some control over his medication, didn’t just have to rely on his father’s good will, didn’t have to beg....

But Castiel never bought much from Balthazar, he could never afford to. For whilst his father was rich, he certainly never trusted Castiel with money and certainly never allowed him to get a job. So Castiel had used his intelligence in order to procure his medicine; completing the homework of other students for a price. And so his business of “student support” continued into university, along with a growing appetite for all things in a powder or pill-like form. And so he was never able to save his earnings no matter how hard he tried. It all went to Balthazar.

However, whilst Balthazar might take all Castiel’s money, he had felt some sympathy for him. He knew something was weird about the amount of control Castiel’s father had over him; thought he deserved a break from the old man’s dictatorship every now and again. The first time he had broken Castiel out was when they were 16. Zachariah had left for a 2 day business trip, which happily coincided with an all-night rave. Even though Castiel had agreed, he had been initially kindof a drag, worrying obsessively that his father would find out or that he would fall victim to some unknown danger which existed beyond the community walls. And so it had been funny watching him turn into from a jibbering wreck into a happy hardcore space cadet in the space of 30 minutes. And so every now and again, when Castiel asked, he would help him escape and return him again the next day, not questioning where he went or what he did. It was the least he could do for one of his best customers. Yeah Balthazar was a regular fairy godmother to Castiel’s Cinderella.

Xxxxxxx

        He was high, felt like he was flying; his feet weren’t on the ground. This is what life should be like. How could he have ever lived anything else? The blood pulsed around his body and he felt the sense of excitement, the endless possibilities, the euphoria. Life was so fucking beautiful. It didn’t feel like he could contain the smile on his face...Sam felt a hand on his arm, looking up he saw her, thick dark hair fringing her heart shaped face, a wide smile plastered on her face, dark eyes looking into his; Ruby. He lent in to kiss her. And then the swarming mass of dancing bodies swallowed them up, and Sam was lost in the crowd, but he didn’t care. It was so beautiful. It has been Ruby’s idea to go to “the Cage”, she liked gay clubs, no dodgy men hitting on her. And Sam had followed her in, just like he always did now. He hadn’t known her for long but had fallen hard. And when Ruby offered him a pill at a party recently, he had wondered what it would be like, to be so free. He had also wondered if it would give him the additional confidence he needed to lean in and kiss her. So he had taken it. And it had given him so much more. After that, they had been inseparable; had fucked hard and partied even harder.

xxxxxxx

       Castiel was still in “The Cage” but he could feel the high leaving now, wanted to hold onto it, but it was slipping away, like shadows in the dawn. He lent over the sink to spray cold water on his face, coming eye to eye with his reflection in the dirty mirror. He didn’t see an angel staring back at him. He quickly turned away. As he did so, he saw a large shape lent up against the wall in the corner of the bathroom. He realised he knew the shape: it was Sam! the enthusiastic puppy from his philosophy study group. He didn’t look great, was sweating profusely, his face deathly white, his head lolling at an awkward angle....shit, what had he taken? Castiel instantly fell to his knees, gripping Sam’s head, _“SAM! SAM! Can you hear me? Are you ok?”_ Sam could barely open his eyes, couldn’t focus on the voice in front of him. _“Sam, what have you taken?”,_ Castiel’s voice panicked as he tried to slap Sam to get his attention. Sam gaggled a response, he couldn’t speak, the room was spinning, and he felt like he was being swallowed into the ground, he couldn’t fight it. Castiel tried to splash water on his face, tried to shake him again. He lent back against the wall _“oh Sam”.  
_


	10. Chapter 10

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A super short chapter.....warning: some aggression between Dean and Cas (but doesn't last long)

The ambulance sped through the town. Sam lay unconscious inside, an oxygen mask attached to his mouth and nose. Castiel sat next to him, trying to keep out of the way of the paramedic. He hadn’t known what to do but Sam had become increasingly unresponsive. So he had decided then that the only option was to call an ambulance. He used Sam’s phone, which he found in his jacket. It was too risky to use his own; Zachariah checked his phone records every month. It felt like a betrayal, he knew Sam could get into a lot of trouble, but the way he was looking, Castiel knew he was already in trouble. Sitting in the back of the ambulance, the paramedic had eyed Castiel suspiciously. He knew he looked terrible. Eyes still pinpricks; pale, sweating and still chewing the inside of his mouth. He looked down at Sam’s phone, he knew he should call Dean. But he was afraid, didn’t know how he was going to tell him. They ambulance arrived at the hospital. The paramedics rushed off with Sam. Castiel took a sharp intake of breath and then he called Dean.

xxxxxxxx

Dean had still been awake when Cas had called, sure it was a Wednesday at 2am, but he had been hanging around the student bars again. Had even hit it off with a girl called Lucy, or Lisa, whatever. Then he had got the short call from Cas his voice panicked and desperate; _“Sam overdosed....he’s in the hospital”._ And Dean’s whole life fell apart.

xxxxxxxx

When Dean arrived at the hospital, he was already wound up, terrified of what he would find when he arrived and very, very angry; his thoughts cascading out of control- “how the fuck had this happened to his little brother? His nerdy, sweet little brother? Who the fuck had done this to him?” - So when Cas had met him outside the hospital, expressing apologies but looking wired, manic, high, Dean had just lost it.

“ _You fucking bastard”_ He grabbed Cas by his trench coat collar, pushing him against the wall. _“You pathetic waster”_ He spat the words into Cas’ face _“you think that it’s cool to try and fuck Sam up?? Why the fuck...?”_ He was screaming into Cas’ face, the vein in his neck pulsing _“You’ve so fucking ignorant, you’ve got no idea what he’s been through”_ Dean’s voice breaking now before pushing Cas against the wall again with renewed vengeance _“Yeah, you’ve no idea what pain is, you’ve had it so easy, always had your rich daddy to look after you...well .you’ve got no idea of what I am going to do to you, daddy won’t be able to save you from me, no one will”._ Dean’s voice had become low and threatening. Cas didn’t say anything; just kept his eyes down. Dean looked around, noting a growing crowd before releasing him “just fuck off, just get out of here”. Cas whispered _“sorry”_ frozen to the spot, he couldn’t move.

Dean left him, broken, crumpled against the wall, before taking a deep breath and heading inside the hospital.


	11. Chapter 11

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Warning: rape

Castiel had woken the next day, sun streaming in. The hangover/come-down hitting along with the memories of last night....oh god, he had cheated on his father, he had fucked another man, just like the slut that his father always said that he was...and then he remembered Sam unconscious....and then Dean screaming at him, threatening him..... He shuddered, the look of pure fury, of hatred, in those green eyes came back to haunt him. Dean hated him then, thought he was just some dumb rich kid living off daddy. And he had so wanted Dean to like him, but of course he had fucked that up. He had realised at the time that Dean had thought he had given the drugs to Sam – why hadn’t he just told him? Why had he just frozen? So pathetic. And what the hell was Dean going to do? What if he told his father? Oh god, a knot started forming in his stomach, panic rising.

He shifted his carcass out of the bed. His father would be home soon. He needed to think. He needed to work out what to do. He took some medicine out of his drawer (hidden in between the pages of the bible, a gift from his mother). He took one pill and then another, dry swallowing. And things felt better. Things were better. Everything was fine.

XXXXX

Dean had been awake all night, sitting by Sam’s bed as the machines beeped. He looked so peaceful lying there, but who knew what was going on in his body. And there was nothing Dean could do. He was so helpless. Doctor Bliss (who looked absolutely nothing like Dr Sexy) said all they could do was wait, that it was up to Sam now. And so the next day drew on and on and Sam just lay there. Dean felt himself get weaker and weaker.

Dean hadn’t thought he had slept, not until he felt a hand on his shoulder gently shaking him. He woke with a start then, his neck aching from the painful position he had slept in (keeled over in his chair, head on Sam’s bed). Sam was pushing at him, he looked disorientated, confused; _“what the hell man, where am I?”_

Sam was alive! And all Dean could feel looking at his brother was awesome relief, his whole body tingling with the absolute relief. He wouldn’t be alone. Sam hadn’t died! And he bent over and tightly hugged his confused and bleary-eyed brother. And then leaning back, letting Sam take a breath, and looking at his wonderful, amazing brother...hmmm no! his stupid, dumbass brother, what the hell was he doing taking drugs with that loser Cas? Relief quickly morphed into anger. 

_"You stupid dick Sam, what the hell did you take last night? Since when have you been on drugs?”_

Sam looked at him, fragmented memories coming back to him. Of Ruby pushing him to do that extra pill, because hey, one or two wasn’t going to be enough to get that high; to get that rush. And all he remembered was the feeling of power, it had been divine.

_"Oh Dean, shit, it’s not that bad, it’s all legal you know, demon blood bills are just a legal high...it just got a bit out of hand last night, you know things at the Cage were crazy and, you know, like, I was just trying to have a good time.....”_

_“WHAT? You’re in the fucking hospital because you oded Sam....and what the fuck, “the Cage??” Who the fuck are you?”_ Dean was angry, terrified, who the hell was this man? How the hell could this have happened, what Sam was gay? And he was on drugs??

_“How the hell could you do this to me? To yourself? Do you know how fucking worried I’ve been?”_

Sam looked at his brother, could see the tiredness etched into his face, the concern, the fear.

 _“oh god...I’m sorry ok, I didn’t mean for it to go this far, but just Ruby and I we’re kindof got a thing, it was her idea to go to the cage”_   Dean breathed a sigh of relief at this information, Sam was definitely not gay then, but who the hell was Ruby?? _“and you know..shit, really, I can’t believe I oded...oh shit”_ More memories of the night before flooded back; Sam feeling too high nothing made sense, his head hurting, feeling ready to explode, blood and sickness, everything speeding up, going too fast. It had felt like the devil and god had been raging inside him.

And Ruby had just left him there.

But someone had saved him.

 _“If it hadn’t been for Castiel you know, Ruby gave me those pills and then she just left me there....”_ Sam trailed off, fully comprehending her abandonment of him. Dean looked at him strangely

_“I thought Cas was the one who gave the stuff to you?"_

_“What?! No! the last thing I remember was Castiel trying to keep me awake, talking to me, he must have called the ambulance.....has he gone already? I really need to thank him”,_ Sam was looking around the room, almost as if he expected Castiel to jump out from his hidden place.

 _“Yeah, he’s gone”_ Dean spoke quietly, as if he was lost in his own thoughts.

Xxxxxxxx

              It was the afternoon when Castiel heard the front door slam. He was still in the shower; still numb and peaceful from the vicodin. The terror couldn’t get to him. But part of him knew it was there waiting on the sidelines to attack, patient, like a spider. He stopped the shower immediately, even in this state, knew he had to keep it together, had to keep his father happy. He dried himself quickly, dressed quickly. Just simple black pants, a shirt; he had no preference, they were just some clothes his father liked. He walked past the long mirror in the hall, without checking his appearance. Knew what he would see there. So ugly. So broken.

He walked quickly down the stairs. Truly he didn’t know whether he wanted to find his father or avoid him. Then he heard his father calling his name _“Castiel”._ He sounded insistent? Irritated? His father was at the top of the stairs, and Castiel found himself at the bottom, looking up. _“How was your trip, father?”_ Was it the right thing to say? Was this ok? Zachariah smiled, slowly. _“Oh it went well, dear”_ , his arms opening and Castiel walked up the stairs, slowly climbed into his father’s embrace. And then his father was kissing his damp hair. Smothering him. Breathing him in. _“I missed you, baby”_ His father whispered into his ear. _“I missed you too”_ , Castiel replied, dutifully. But a part of him meant it. Without his father, nothing made sense. His world was chaos. His father loved him, more than anything. How lucky he was to be so loved.

And then his father was gone, off to his room, shutting the door. Leaving him alone on the top of the stairs. But it wasn’t relief Castiel felt, it was fear. Had he done something wrong? What did his father want? What should he do next? Tension in Castiel’s body rising. He couldn’t escape it. And the walls of the house seemed to close in around him. And the familiar desire to fade away arose within him. Soundlessly he crept downstairs and started to clean. Just wanted to keep busy, just wanted to forget.

Xxxxxxxx

                    Several hours had passed. Castiel looked at his phone, no messages from Sam. He hoped he was ok. He didn’t even know if he was awake. He couldn’t call him, his father would notice any unscheduled calls on the phone bill. He cursed his cowardice. He would have to wait until college tomorrow and then he could try sneaking off to the hospital. He just hoped that Dean wouldn’t contact his father. He just needed to explain what happened. The knot in his stomach was tightening. He hadn’t got many pills left, he couldn’t afford to take more. But he felt terrible, knew he needed something, just to take the edge off. The worrying about Sam, Dean, and of course his father...he couldn’t take it. He was covered in sweat; couldn’t stop twitching and restlessly moving from room to room, cleaning things that didn’t need cleaning, couldn’t stop thinking about what might happen. But the worst of it was, that he was just waiting, just waiting for his father to wake up and push his demands upon him.....

His father hadn’t risen from his room and it was growing dark outside. Castiel hoped that maybe his father would just sleep through. But then he knew even if his father did, he would just be worrying, waiting all night for his door to gently open....knew his body wouldn’t allow him sleep, would be in constant threat mode, a heightened state of panic, preparing him for the worst. He just wanted the tension to end. He just wanted it all to end. But he knew it wouldn’t. Knew that there was only one thing he could do.

He crept into his father’s room. The curtains were drawn and the room was dark. He made his way to the bed, where his father’s form lay. He crept in beneath the covers. He knew it was going to happen anyway; he just wanted control over when. He moved close to his father, could smell his stagnant breath and sickly sweet aftershave. He leaned in and kissed him on the mouth. And in that moment, he could feel a part of himself dying. His father’s eyes fluttered open, his lips forming into a slow smile, a smirk. They kissed again, long and hard, tongues exploring. He could feel his father’s sweaty hands reaching for his body, reaching under his shirt. Reaching down, stroking him through his pants. Could hear his father’s sighs and murmurs of approval. And Castiel felt himself leaning in, kissing and sucking his father’s neck and chest. The skin wrinkled and dry. Then Castiel’s mind was taking him elsewhere. In this place, he was an angel with black wings. Previously, he had tried being an angel with white wings but it never worked. And here in his mind, he was powerful. He was wise and kind and had many human friends. But he was also absolutely ruthless in hunting down and killing evil, smiting his enemies. But the best part about being this powerful angel was that he could fly. And so while his father was holding him down and fucking him in that darken room, Castiel was flying.


	12. Chapter 12

_I_ t was 9.15am and Dean was standing outside the philosophy lecture theatre. Uncomfortable. All these geeky nerds rushing around him like minnows made him itch to get the hell out. But he was waiting for Cas. Didn’t know what he was going to say. But he knew he owed him this much.

Castiel approached the lecture hall. He had already decided that he would catch the bus to the hospital after the first lecture. Go and see Sam. He hoped Dean would be there, hoped he would be able to explain everything. 

And then he saw him. Standing outside the lecture hall. Hands balled into fists in his leather jacket. Jade greed eyes scanning the corridor. And terror gripped the insides of his stomach, “oh god, what if Dean is here to fight?”. The thought flashed through his mind. But Castiel knew he had to face him. Besides would he really start fighting him here in this crowded place? Feeling slightly more confident Castiel walked toward Dean.

Dean saw him then, saw Cas moving slowly, gracefully toward him. His breath hitched. So beautiful.

And Dean hadn’t wanted to fight. Had been so full of apologises and gratitude that Castiel felt embarrassed, hadn’t known where to look, had felt himself blushing profusely. Dean’s aggression and disgust toward him eagerly forgotten; he was just so relieved that nothing would get back to his father; that Dean wasn’t mad at him. And much to his surprise, Dean had invited him to go and get a coffee and pie with him. And even more surprising he had agreed to forego the lecture and go with him. As he followed the taller man out of the corridor, he could barely believe that Dean actually seemed to want to spend time with him. A bubble of excitement rose in his stomach. Sure Castiel didn’t know Dean well, but there was just something about him; he just felt drawn to him. But then there was his father. He felt confused and guilty at thoughts of his father; why would he need anyone else, when his father loved him so much?

As they continued to walk in silence, thoughts of Dean’s kiss came back to Castiel, could this be a date? Would Dean want to fuck him afterwards? That’s all he was good for after all. But then would Dean even want to fuck someone as corrupted as himself? Or was that kiss a mistake? After all Dean had pushed him away, rejected him.....Maybe Dean just feel guilty about what happened with Sam and feel compelled to buy him coffee as an apologetic gesture?

Either way, he hoped his father wouldn’t find out.

They arrived at “the Pit”, the only place Dean knew on campus (besides they made great pecan pie and they probably served coffee). They had walked in silence; Dean was just relieved the apology had gone so well. Cas had seemed to forgive him so easily, he had expected to have to work harder. But when he had simply told Cas that he was sorry about his behaviour and that Sam was doing ok; Cas had just smiled and accepted it. Dean had wondered if this acceptance was too good to be true. So he had tried harder to explain why he had made the mistake and how truly sorry he was. But Cas had just looked embarrassed and gone a rather charming shade of red. It was almost as if he didn’t think he deserved an apology. All he seemed concerned about was that Dean not tell his father that he had been in “the Cage”. Dean could understand that, he knew all about homophobic fathers. At that point, it had seemed that the conversation was going to end, that Cas was going to leave for his class. And Dean had just wanted to talk to him a bit more; hadn’t wanted him to go. And somehow he had ended up asking him for coffee. What the hell? Had he really asked Cas on a date? He quickly shook his head at that thought. Dean Winchester did not date and he certainly did not date men! He decided that this was just a friend-thing. Just two guys, who may have kissed (briefly) but who were now just going to have a friendly coffee....yeah this was definitely just a friend thing. Definitely.

Xxxxxxxx

                  They were sitting across from each other in a little booth, pie and coffee ordered (Castiel just ordered the coffee, the same way as Dean’s; cream, two sugars). There were a few zoned out hippie heads playing pool in the corner; the barman was idly flicking through the student paper. Basically the place was dead, it was far too early. Regardless, Dean didn’t notice the surroundings, was too absorbed in the quiet man in front of him, who kept shifting nervously in his seat. Neither of them said anything for awhile, until Dean broke the silence.

_“Soooooo, you wanna tell me your side of what happened with Sam then?”_

At this question, Cas looked down and speaking in his unusually deep voice, he proceeded to tell Dean what happened. And when he finished, Dean smiled at him _“look if there’s anything you need, ever, all you gotta do is ask”._ Castiel couldn’t believe that Dean was being so kind, of course he probably didn’t mean it. _“Really, it was nothing, I’m just glad that Sam is doing ok”._ Dean smiled briefly at him _“look man, tell me this is none of my business, but the other night at the hospital, you were high weren’t you?” ._ Dean was met with an abrupt silience. Castiel glared at him before snapping _"You’re right, it’s none of your business”_.

Castiel inhaled sharply, hadn’t meant to sound so angry. Dean sighed “ _Look, just saying, with Sam and everything, that shit is bad for you”_. Castiel  glared at him again, _“I thought I skipped my morning lecture, clearly I was wrong.....maybe I should just go”_. _“Oh woh, man, chill, look let’s just have some coffee yeah?”_ Dean was surprised; he hadn’t expected the conversation to ruffle this guy’s feathers quite this much. Whatever, if this guy wanted to put shit in his body, what did it have to do with him? Maybe he should have just let him go. Maybe this all just a mistake.

            An awkward silence. Castiel couldn't quite believe that he had been so insolent. He looked around, desperately trying to think of something to say before coming up with.... _“you know, I don’t think I’ve ever been here before”_. God he was so lame. Dean looked at him incredulously , earlier spat apparently forgotten _“no way dude! You’ve never been to the Pitt?!”_ Repeating the words slowly as if he couldn’t quite believe it _“Hell, you’ve been missing out!”_

And so the conversation went and before he knew it, Castiel realised that he was enjoying himself. He laughed at Dean’s dumb jokes and impressions of ‘bitchy’ Sam. He even started asking questions about Dean and Bobby’s PI business.

xxxxxxxx

The remaining coffee was cold and the pie long ago eaten; the date or whatever it was, was coming to an end.

Castiel sighed, he knew that cheating on his father was wrong, dangerous even, but he really wanted to see Dean again; really wanted the guy to like him. And sex was all he could give.

_“So you wanna fuck me now?”_ Castiel looked at Dean earnestly. Somehow he managed to make the words sound innocent.

Dean made a choking sound _“What?! No! Woh dude, where the hell did that come from??”_

_“Oh”_ Castiel felt confused, embarrassed, redundant. Of course, why would someone like Dean want to touch dirt like him? But then, it had seemed like Dean was flirting with him. At one point, he could have sworn Dean brushed his hand over his thigh.

Silence, neither of them moved or knew where to look.

_“um.....awkward”_ Dean said under his breath, but loud enough for Castiel to hear. Dean didn’t know what to say, just suddenly had irrepressible urge to get the hell out.

_“I’m sorry, am I making you uncomfortable?_ Castiel looked at Dean, genuine concern apparent in his ocean blue eyes. Dean felt his stomach flip, had this guy really propositioned him? Since when was he the one who got propositioned? And then thoughts of pushing Cas into the grimy toilets in “the Pit”, grinding against him, pushing into him, taking back the control. Oh god he HAD to stop this.

_“Look I’m sorry about that thing that happened the other day, um in the car”_ Dean coughed slightly _“but look I’m not gay or anything, so um I just don’t see you like that yeah?_ ” Dean regretted the words as soon as he said them, but too late now. _“Look man, thanks for everything you did for Sam, and you know I meant it when I said, ‘if there’s anything you need, I am totally there’”_. Cas looked at him again and Dean felt his piercing eyes upon him, almost like he was truly seeing him. Could he know that Dean couldn’t stop having all those wrong thoughts about him?

_“oh, um, ok, there might be something you can help me with, Dean”._


	13. Chapter 13

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Warnings: rape, mentions of child abuse

_T_ he next week passed in a blur for Castiel. Standing in church with his father, while Priest Azazel shouted his sermon on sinning and the damned; his father lazily thrusting into him, while telling him that he loved him; his father sucking him off, making him cum before slapping and spanking him, telling him he was a dirty whore; writing assignments he didn’t care about, attending lectures he barely heard, screaming in pain, in pleasure as his father brutally fucked him; popping pills to keep the shadows away; secretly drawing pictures of Dean, a man who would never love him; of beautiful places he would never go to; of Angels, he would never be. And so Castiel waited for Dean. And he hoped. But he heard nothing.

xxxxxxx

Dean kinda regretted offering Cas his help since it would mean he would have to see him again. But then again a part of himself, a buried part, was secretly pleased.

Dean had been surprised with Cas’ request; to find his brother, Gabriel. He hadn’t known Cas had an older brother, much less one who was shrouded with mystery; where had he gone? Was he missing or just unwilling to come home?

Of course Cas said he would pay and even though Dean needed the money, he felt obliged to waiver the fee. After all he had said that he owed Cas a favour. One brother for another. And so he set to work, didn’t have much to go on though. A name, a date of birth, a well-worn photo of Cas’ brother at 15, just before he left. Dean wondered if this was all just a wild ghost chase. But damn it he was gonna do this for Cas, he was gonna find Gabriel.

xxxxxxx

Castiel had only been 7 when Gabriel had left and only had fragments of memory about his brother; but he treasured them. He remembered his cheeky grin, the sweets he stole just for Castiel, playing games with him and making him laugh, praising him for his drawings, looking after him when he was sick, letting him sleep in his bed when Castiel was afraid of the shadow man in his room.

Of course Zachariah hadn’t allowed that to continue.

And Castiel had never told Gabriel that the shadow man was real. Had never told him how he had made their father touch him, kiss him, hurt him down there. He was too ashamed of his behaviour. Besides he didn’t want Gabriel to hate him; Zachariah told him that Gabriel would be jealous if he found out that he was not the favourite.

But Naomi, his mother had found out. He had seen her standing in his bedroom doorway, while his father had rutted into him, sweating and groaning. But she had silently slipped away, had done nothing. Castiel had just been relieved that she had not been angry.

And then one day, when Castiel was 6 and Gabriel was 14, she was gone. Zachariah never had informed them where, just carried on, like she had never existed.

And Gabriel had got more and more defiant upon her leaving, arguing openly with his father, earning him more bruises and more trips to the closet. But he didn’t seem to care. Castiel remembered one of the last times he saw his brother, that memory was the clearest of them all. Castiel had woken to the sounds of his brother’s screams, the sound echoing through the house. His father had been beating him again. He had wanted it to stop but he hadn’t known how. Just crawled under his bed and prayed to a God that never came. The next day Castiel had crept into Gabriel’s bedroom.

The worst of it wasn’t the cuts, the bruises, the blood, that covered his body, but his eyes. Dark, empty, soulless. It was like there was nothing left of him.

This was the price of rebellion.

And then Gabriel was gone.

Of course Zachariah had never really been clear about where he had gone. The official story was that Gabriel had gone to live with an Aunt in Canada. But Castiel had known of no aunt in Canada. And then, when he was older, Zachariah told him that Gabriel had simply run away; had left him. But Castiel wouldn’t believe this, couldn’t believe this.

And so all those years, Castiel had never known where his brother was; had no way of finding him. Until now, until he met Dean.

xxxxx

And so a week passed. There was a chill in the air but it remained unusually sunny for early November.

Dean was at the Novak house, doing some hoeing and other gardening stuff (seriously what did he know about gardening?) He had hoped he would be able to talk to Cas privately about the progress (or lack of) with the “Gabriel search”. However, Cas was sitting with his father and his father’s friends on the decking next to the pool (annoyingly still wearing his usual covered-up formal attire). He definitely got the sense that Cas didn’t want to speak to him. Besides, Cas had made it clear he didn’t want his father to know about the search. Dean had guessed Cas didn’t want to upset him if it wasn’t possible to find Gabriel. He guessed Zachariah must be pretty cut up about the whole thing. But then again, he was curious, what had happened? Cas seemed pretty certain Gabriel hadn’t gone to Canada. So had Gabriel run away? And if he had, it begged the question – why?

He was brought back to the present moment by Zachariah’s breath on the back of his neck. He had apparently come over to have a “chat” or rather, to point out Dean’s many mistakes in the gardening department. _“Hmmm, looks like that edge there isn’t quite.....perfect, hmmm, I really am not paying you for mediocre, Mr Winchester”._ Dean scowled. Zachariah always called him that _“Mr Winchester”_ , but said it with such a mocking tone, he might as well have been calling him _“Mr Loser”_ or _“Mr Idiot”_. Indeed as Dean had started working for Zachariah, he had grown to increasingly dislike his new boss (and not just because he disliked being told what to do). There was just something creepy about the guy; several times he had caught him staring at him, dark eyes seizing him up, as if he was waiting to pounce. And he never knew where he was with the guy; he would be told to do something at one moment and then be criticised for doing it the next. And his criticisms would always be delivered with the same smarmy smile, his tone as sweet and light as his words cutting and dark.

After delivering more instructions for Dean, Zachariah had sauntered off back to his friends and Cas, making a joke about _“not being able to get the right quality of staff”._ Seriously, Dean didn’t know how someone as sweet as Cas could be related to such a dickwad like Zachariah. He looked over at the small party at the pool, could see that Cas was lying on the sun-lounger, it looked like he was just trying to ignore his father and his friends, despite the fact that they kept trying to drag him into conversation by making jokes about him and prodding him. Weird. He wished he could go over there and......hell he didn’t know. Cas had entirely freaked him out the other day, propositioning him and all that. It’s always the quiet ones you gotta watch. But hell, it was for the best that he had rejected him anyway, Castiel clearly wasn’t that interested. He hadn’t even looked at him once since he had got to the garden. Besides that girl Lisa from the bar the other night had called him and they were going out later. Not a date though. Hmmm he might even get lucky.

xxxxx

Seeing Dean had been difficult. Castiel wanted to go over, just wanted to be near him. And he also desperately wanted to know if he had found anything out about Gabriel. But he knew he couldn’t go over, not when his father was there, watching his every move, testing him. And Castiel knew he couldn’t make a single mistake, couldn’t look at Dean, couldn’t show any interest. But how he wanted to! But he knew Dean didn’t feel the same. And that thought made the cracks and scars in his already broken heart hurt that little bit more.

After Dean had left, Castiel had breathed a sigh of relief. But only for a moment, he knew what his father and his friends wanted.

He was still lying on the sun-lounger, when his father came and sat beside him. His father’s friends, Ralph, Urie, and Michael sat silently, watching him.

He offered no resistance as his father plunged the needle into his arm. He watched as the clear fluid was pushed into his body. And soon he felt lighter and further away; his body was not his own, he could no longer even control his limbs.

He looked up into the blue sky, heard the bees buzzing in the garden. It could have been paradise. And then he felt their rough hands upon him, tugging at his clothes. And a voice in his ear _“you won’t feel a thing”._

He passed out.

Xxxx

                He awoke disorientated, his head feeling like wool, his throat so dry, raw, he almost couldn’t swallow. Slowly he opened his eyes, he was alone in his room, had been carelessly left face down, on the floor. He tried to move and then the pain hit him, agonising and unbearable, his insides sore and burning. 

He knew he had to get up. Pushing himself off the floor, whimpering quietly to himself as he moved slowly on all fours to the bathroom, could feel the sticky mess of cum and blood between his legs, in his hair, on his body. He wanted to cry but the tears wouldn’t come. He just needed to get himself clean.

_“Ah Castiel, still on your knees I see_ ” Zachariah’s voice above him.

He looked up, tried to grip the wall to help him stand up, but his father easily pushed his hands away from the wall, so that he fell onto his back, ass exposed.

_“Still begging for it”_ His father smiled before leaning down between his legs. Castiel whimpered again, as his father’s fingers brushed over his abused hole. _“You were quite the star last night, baby....but it’s ok, we filmed it all so we can watch it together later. I want you to see how well you performed, my perfect little sex-doll”_. His father smiled benevolently before driving his fingers deep inside him. Castiel’s screams muffled by his father’s mouth.


	14. Chapter 14

                 Dean woke up the next day, his head pounding (not unusual) and a warm body curled into his (slightly more unusual). So yeah, he had taken out this Lisa chick, nothing fancy, just food at a local diner, drinks....and well it would have been rude not to have accepted the invitation to go back to hers. But then even with the alcohol flowing through his veins and her soft curves pushing into his hard edges, it had been well......awkward. Lisa was definitely beautiful with rich brown eyes and chocolate brown curls framing her elfin like face, everyone wanted her, that was for sure. But as she lay looking up at him as he moved inside her, it just felt blank. No passion, no desire. Somehow he had kept himself hard. Well, thoughts of Dr Sexy usually did the trick; although as it went on Dr Sexy had morphed into a familiar man with a tight ass and permanent bed head.

Dean edged himself slowly out of the bed. He was half way though dressing when he heard her mumble his name; _“Dean, where are you going?”_ _“Sorry er, just remembered got loads to do back at the office, umm you know....”_ He trailed off as he saw the disappointment in her eyes. She knew he wouldn’t want to see her again. She wondered what she had done wrong. He left her apartment feeling jaded, tired. Knew that if he had woken up to blue eyes and not brown, he would never have left. He sighed. He really needed to book another appointment with that therapist to get rid of these wrong thoughts once and for all.

Xxxxxx

Later that day, Dean was sipping on coffee (no sugar), looking though police files of missing teens online (courtesy of a hacking programme that Sam had made a while ago). God, there were so many, but none of them were Gabriel Novak. This was getting him nowhere.

He heard the door slam, it was Sam back from his run. Since he had got back from hospital, Sam was on a health kick. Something about his body being a temple. He was even drinking vegetable juices and meditating. And he had stopped seeing Ruby, despite her numerous texts and calls. Dean was pleased that Ruby was no longer around (although he was less pleased with the weird green drinks Sam insisted on consuming).

Sam came pounding up the stairs. Dean yelled out to him _“hey man, you busy? you wanna come out with me on a case?”_ He never used the word help. Sam stopped in the doorway _“yeah sure, just grab a shower and I’ll be there”._

Xxxxxxx

         Sam and Dean waited outside on the veranda. Dean had pressed the bell twice. Finally a man opened the door but kept the fly screen shut. His hair bleached and flicked up, a style beguiling his age, which Dean guessed must have at least 50. Eyes, icy blue, surveyed them. “Hi” Dean smiled. The man did not. Dean hoped he looked charming, non-threatening. _“Mr Luca Devlin?”_ he asked and was answered with a slight nod. _“I’m Dean Winchester, this is my brother Sam, we are private investigators for the Novak family. They wanted me to come and talk to you”_. Sure it was a lie, but hell, he needed to learn more about Gabriel. Maybe this Luca, his old school teacher, would be able to help.

xxxxx

Several days later.....

Castiel was standing awkwardly next to his father. The sound of light chatter and laughter mingled with expensive perfume. He sipped on the champagne, the bubbles going to his head. His father absent-mindedly stroked his back, while he stood, transfixed by the enormous painting of a battle scene hung on the plain white wall. The central figure laying bloodied and dying beneath the paw of a lion, whilst all around him, angels and demons fought. Castiel shuddered and looked away. The painting was hideous and glorious all at the same time.

They were at the opening of a prestigious art gallery in the northern quarter of the city. Castiel knew his father cared nothing about art; he did however, care about money. And such events attracted wealthy individuals; wealthy individuals who always needed expensive lawyers just like Zachariah Novak.

_"I see you have an eye on a Metatron piece”_ a slick voice commented behind them. Zachariah’s lip curled in disgust as he recognised the voice.

_“Dick, of course, how pleasant to see you here, it’s been quite some time”._

He turned to display a particularly oily smile; one which was returned with an equal lack of sincerity. Castiel turned also, he hadn’t seen Dick Roman for a couple of months, thank god. Dick had been one of his father’s clients, who had become somewhat of a friend to Zachariah. Or rather he invited Zachariah and his friends to his elaborate parties; parties with all the boys they could want. Castiel grimaced as he remembered. But trips to Dick’s parties had stopped some time ago. Now he only saw Dick at public events, like the one that day.

_“ah Castiel....”_ He felt Dick’s grey eyes looking him up and down barely containing his lust. He felt naked before him. He quickly averted his gaze looking down at the floor, his eyes catching on Dick’s shiny expensive shoes. His father pulled him in closer; could feel his father’s displeasure. Zachariah had never liked Dick looking at him. He had never even let Dick touch him. The only man he hadn’t. He never knew why. Dick had certainly wanted to.

_“Still spending all your time with your father, I see?”_ The tone innocent, the subtext anything but.

xxxxx

                The event at the art gallery was almost over, Castiel was exhausted. It would have been wonderful if he had been able to be with the paintings alone. But of course no one was interested in them. It was just an evening to network; to make money by engaging in mindless chatter, by maintaining that mask of respectability. He knocked back another glass of champagne before unsteadily making his way outside. He knew his father liked taking him out to such events, liked to show him off, always introducing him as _“my boy”_. Most people unaware of the true meaning behind those words. And so the whole night he had been glued to his father’s side. And now he wanted to get away, just for a moment.

He stepped out into the cool night air. Alone at last, on the street outside the gallery. He looked up at the stars.

_“Ah Castiel, I hoped I would catch you alone”._ Castiel startled at the sound of Dick Roman’s voice. How had he not heard him coming?

_“So beautiful”_ Dick smiled, closing the space between them. Castiel stepped back only to be met by the wall behind. Dick reached forward, tracing a finger along Castiel’s face. The gentleness at odds with the brutal nature, which Castiel knew lay underneath the expensive suit and mask of civility.

_“Look, my father is waiting, I should go”._ Castiel made to leave, but Dick pushed him back.

_“Going so soon? And I thought you wanted to know where your brother was”._ Castiel took a sharp intake of breath _“How?...What...Where?”_ Confusion, panic, hope. _“Oh Castiel, let’s just a little bird told me that you had hired some private investigators.....surely you knew you could always come and ask me for help?"_ Dick’s hands reached forward, playing with the waistband of Castiel’s suit pants. He continued in a low whisper _“you know those private investigators haven’t got a chance of finding him, but me? I’ve always known where your brother was”_. He leaned in closer, the semi-hardness of his erection rubbing against Castiel. _“But you know, that sort of information will cost you”._ Castiel felt his skin crawl; just wanted to get away, to get away from all these men that just wanted to fuck him, use him, destroy him.

_“You don’t know anything”_ He yelled _“Dean is gonna find him”_ He pushed at Dick again, who was momentarily taken off guard by Castiel’s outburst. And then Castiel took off, running as fast as he could, away from Dick, away from his father, away from them all.


	15. Chapter 15

                              The smell of guitar strings and nicotine clung to Dean’s fingers. It had too long since he had played. But tonight he had gone down to the studio, Benny had been insistent. He had even hired a semi-decent place out in the northern part of the city. They had ended up jamming and smoking, chatting about girls they fucked, girls they wanted to fuck and reminiscing about how they met.......It had been several years ago, in a bar on the wrong side of town. It hadn’t been an easy beginning; Dean had been wasted and looking for the oblivion that pain brought; wanting to fight and feel the familiarity of violence and the sickening crush of knuckles on his skin. His invitation was open to anyone, to the pissed off barman who was drinking half the profits, to the shady dealer sitting alone in the corner, to the group of rowdy men sore from a losing another soccer game. But it was Benny who accepted this particular invitation. The fight turned ugly pretty quickly and before long, both men were on the ground, kicking and punching, much to the delight of the braying crowd. The police were called. Of course then Dean took it upon himself to taunt the crowd and the two overweight police officers who arrived on the scene, promptly leading to his own arrest (as well as Benny’s, a fact that he still claims to be bitter about). After a night in the cells and time to sober up, they had bumped into each other the next morning, outside the jail. Dean had stuck his hand out and offered to buy Benny a drink. To this day, Dean isn’t sure why he did this. To this day, Benny doesn’t know why he agreed. But as a result, they soon became regular drinking and brawling buddies, egging each other on, encouraging each other’s demise. Sam had begged Dean to stop hanging out with Benny. But in the end, it was Benny who left. Went to rehab, sobered up, did the whole 12 step thing and cut out his old drinking buddies. Of Dean understood, but it hurt anyway. Dean didn’t have a drinking problem like Benny’s of course, he knew he didn’t need to stop, he knew he was in control. But well, with Benny gone, getting annihilated alone every night just seemed kinda desperate, reminded him too much of his old man. He didn’t stop drinking of course, just cut back. He was able to start doing regular hours at Bobby’s garage again, stopped drinking in the morning to get over the hangover from the night before, stopped hiding bottles around the house. He even went back to the boxing gym again to get his need for violence and pain sated. And gradually, they had resumed their friendship. Benny wasn’t as wild as he was but hell he still had a filthy mouth and a dark sense of humour, which got Dean every time. And so, they hung out every now and again, played guitar and talked about everything other than what mattered.

            It was late when they finished. Dean had offered Benny a lift, which was politely declined, and so he left the studio alone. Standing by his impala, his baby, he shivered in the cold night air. He took a swig of rum from his flask (he had been drinking discreetly all night, knowing that Benny would disapprove but hell, he was most creative after a few drinks). That’s when he heard him.

Xxxxx

                      Castiel had run until his legs ached and his lungs burnt with the lack of oxygen. He wasn’t all that fit but somehow the adrenaline burst had kept him running and the champagne had kept him oblivious to the pain. But he had reached beyond his limit, leaving him panting and almost vomiting on the side of the road. And now he was lost and panicking again. The buildings towered above him and the streets were empty and dark. Castiel began to imagine the shadows were watching him, he could almost feel someone behind him, reaching out to grab his shoulder.......he squeaked in fear and tried to run again, but his muscles refused more than a fast gait. He was terrified as he began to think what his father would do when he found out his son was missing. He couldn’t even call him, he had left his phone in his coat back at the gallery. He knew he just needed to find his way home, but he didn’t have a clue where he was. He had realised he was going around in circles when he passed the same dumpster with the same graffiti tag _“live free or die trying_ ”, it struck a chord the first time he saw it and the second, and now seeing it again the third time, he knew he was lost. His mind on all the punishments his father would concoct. He had been running low on money and he knew the pills he had weren’t going to cover for what his father was going to do to him. He started shaking, his thoughts spiralling out of control, he couldn’t work out what he needed to do, he couldn’t move. He sank down next to the dumpster, half-sobs escaping his lips, he just needed to calm down, he just needed to work out where he was.....why the hell had he run? Why was so fucking stupid? His mind felt slow and heavy, further addled by the champagne he had forced down earlier.

 _“Hey dude, what are you doing here?”_ , Castiel startled at the sound of the familiar voice above him. He looked up to find a concerned Dean looking down at him. He tried to hide his sniffling as he edged himself up the wall into a standing position.

 _“I er just, I um....I guess I am lost”_ , he said in a thick voice, before it broke and he let out an involuntary sob.

 _“What the hell, how did you.....?_ ” Dean trailed off as Cas lead out another sob. Without a thought, Dean stepped forward and grabbed the man in a close hug, before awkwardly stepping back _“well you can have a lift if you like”_. Dean was met with huge blue eyes, which looked at him with such adoration that he had to look away _“Look its no big deal, your place is not that far from mine”_ (which was a complete lie but whatever).

           They walked silently to the car, Castiel still trying to hold back the sobs and Dean wondering what the hell was going on. But no sooner had Dean got himself settled into the car, he found that Cas had swung from weeping damsel in distress to psycho seductress. He literally jumped on him, desperately trying to kiss him and grabbing at, and rubbing Dean’s groin, before he could be stopped. Dean was shocked but not afraid. He struggled and pushed at Cas hard, trying to get away and with one last shove, Cas’ head hit the window with a loud crack and then he was out cold.

_“oh Fuck”._


	16. Chapter 16

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hmmm, not sure what I think about this chapter...we'll see what happens...

                  The blood was congealing over what looked like a nasty cut on the back of Cas’ head. Dean surveyed the damage. Cas was still out, his body limp against the inside of the car door. He tried to shake him a bit, say his name, but he was out. Dean wasn’t particularly panicked, he was used to blood. Just not used to drawing it from people who didn’t deserve it. He felt like shit, he really hadn’t meant to push the man so hard. God, he was such an idiot, he had just wanted to push him away a little. But then he knew there was part of him, that had wanted Cas to just keep going. That part frightened him. And why had Cas even tried? He had told him he wasn’t gay. Dean wondered if Cas knew that he hadn’t been completely telling the truth? What do they call it, gaydar? Dean swallowed hard, he was NOT gay. But he lent back and looked at Cas, really looked at him, without the fear of Cas knowing that he was staring, took in the porcelain, almost translucent, skin, prominent cheekbones, the mop of messy hair. He looked so serene, almost divine. Perhaps being gay wouldn’t be so bad? Dean forward and kissed him on the forehead “ _I’m sorry, Cas_ ”. He looked at his head again, it looked like he was still bleeding. He started the car, it was going to be a long night.

xxxxxxxx

            Cas opened his eyes slowly and was immediately aware of the throbbing, pulsing pain in his head, and then that the world was moving too fast. He immediately felt a wave of nausea, Before he knew what he was doing or where he was, he was lending over himself and retching onto the floor. A car floor, or more specifically, the floor of Dean’s impala. Oh fuck.  Before Dean was aware that Cas was even awake, he heard the retching sound, _“oh no, just wait.....oh no, you fucking didn’t! Oh man, oh shit”._ Dean’s speech was an incoherent babble of swearwords as he tried to push Cas’ head back and stop him throwing up. He swerved to a stop at the side of the road and jumped out, Cas had managed to stop being sick and got out of the other side of the car. _“I am so sorry, I didn’t mean......”_ he trailed off as he realised Dean was not even listening, just staring morosely at the small pile of vomit on the impala floor _“oh my poor baby”_ he whispered. _“I am sorry Dean, I can pay......”_. Dean looked at him, and yeah he looked pissed. Cas swallowed, he waited for the inevitable fist; but wait, how had this even happened? And why did his head hurt so damn much? Dean saw the other man wince, like he was expecting to get hit. And his anger dissipated.

            _“Look just get in the car, Cas, I will take you to the hospital”._

            _“What? Why? I don’t need a hospital”._ Castiel felt panicked, he hated hospitals, hospitals meant doctors and doctors meant uncomfortable questions and paying for treatments, which always pissed off his father...oh, his father.....details of the night were coming back now. Castiel touched his head gingerly, could feel the blood. He didn’t think it was that bad, he had had worse. Besides he had deserved it, launching himself on Dean like a whore in heat. It had seemed like a good idea at the idea, pushing himself on Dean; the champagne (and yeah, lets face it, those lines of coke he had done earlier) had annihilated his (many) inhibitions. The part of him that told him that Dean wasn’t gay; wouldn’t even look at him, even if he was, had been conveniently forgotten in the moment, in that moment of need. The need just to be close to someone and to forget; forget himself and what his father would do to him. He had just been so afraid. That was all he ever was.

            _“Look man, hurry up”_ Dean was getting impatient.

            _“I am really sorry......for everything”_ Cas finished lamely.

            _“Yeah whatever, just get in the car, so I can take your drunk ass to the hospital and get rid of you”._ Dean growled. He really hadn’t meant to sound so harsh, but his baby was hurt, ruined, and the man responsible was just stood there, looking so vulnerable, so adorable. And that really pissed Dean off.

           Castiel really didn’t want to go the hospital, but Dean looked and sounded serious. He didn’t have a choice. He slipped back into the impala, being careful to avoid the vomit on the floor. When they arrived at the hospital, Castiel felt confused again. Wait, why was he here? _“Dean?”_ He looked over at the other man _“what are you doing here....and oh! where is here?”_. _“Really, Cas?”_ Dean said in an exasperated tone _“oh fucking hell”._ Dean jumped out of the car as Cas all but fell out of the other side of the car. There was nothing for it, he would have to accompany him in to the hospital. It really was going to be a long, long night.

XXXXXXXX

            The nurse who inspected his head was gentle, said he needed some stitches but that he would be fine. And yes, temporary memory loss was normal. And no, he didn’t need to stay in the hospital but yes, it was important that someone kept an eye on him. Dean shifted uncomfortably, not sure how he was going to explain to Mr Novak what had happened. Castiel grabbed up the prescription for painkillers enthusiastically as the nurse departed. Head injury aside, he could only imagine what his father would do to him and he knew he would need all the painkillers he could get.

            _“Hey Dean, could I borrow some money for the prescription, I’ll pay you back”,_ Castiel tried to look as sincere as possible.

            _“Right yeah, but you can add that to the money you owe me for what you did to my baby”_

            _“Wait, what, I didn’t do anything.....”_

They arrived at the pharmacy in the hospital. Castiel passed the prescription over. _“Look, I’m just going for a piss”._ When Dean returned from his visit to the men’s, he found Castiel and another guy embracing and Castiel was crying. When Castiel saw Dean, he tried to form words, but he couldn’t. The other guy looked up at Dean, confused, _“Who are you?”,_ his English accent made his words sound clipped and sharp. _“Who are you?”_ Dean looked at the other man, with the same amount of contempt. Castiel ignored their posturing and composed himself _“Dean, it’s my father, Balthazar’s heard that he has been in an accident, its serious....”_


	17. Chapter 17

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> See tags for triggers  
> Sorry not updated for ages....usual things like being busy and a whole other load of sh*t ;)

If you had asked him at the time, he would have said that there was nothing wrong with what he was doing; they were in love. And love was never wrong. His son was his after all. A life-sized doll, he belonged to him.

But if you had asked him, and if he had been able, he might have told you that had taken his son’s innocence because he had never been. That life had taken from him, and now he only knew how to do the same. To be the prey or the predator; that’s all he knew. That’s all he would ever know, those were all his choices. And least that is what he might have believed. He might even have gone on to tell you, that his desires had been twisted and shaped from his own childhood. And how then, as an adult, when he had tucked his son into bed, he did not feel tender fatherly love, he just felt aroused. And if he could, he would have told you, this was finally what they had taken from him. But perhaps if he had shown this sort of insight, he would never have just given in and kissed his child on the mouth. And relished the sweetness and softness. It had been the final step, the final boundary, which he had never realised he had been edging towards. He might have told you, that in that moment, he understood, he would never stop himself from what he needed, from what he deserved. And he knew too, that he could not deny his son who clearly needed and wanted him in the same way. And each time he made that choice, he felt himself become more powerful, as he fully dominated himself over another being in a way that he had never thought possible. But this power corrupted him, changed him. And so each time he made the choice; the choice to hold his son, to kiss his son, to fuck his son, it had been harder for him to come back from the hellish creature that he had slowly become.

But if you asked him now about his regrets? Well now all you would receive as an answer would be the beeping of the machines as they worked to breath for the once formidable man, Zachariah Novak.

   xxxxxx

           Castiel made his way to his father’s hospital bed in a daze, terrified what he would find. Yet what greeted him still shook him to his core. His father looking smaller, older, weaker as he lay on that hospital bed hooked up to several, intimating looking machines. Castiel raked his hands through his unruly curls. He could barely stand it, the only person in the world who loved him, the only one left, was going to leave him. He barely contained the sob that was threatening to surface. He was so scared. His father had told him he would never survive without him. And that’s when he felt a hand on his shoulder. Of course, Dean had followed him up to his father’s room. Balthazar had made some excuse, he had a delivery to pick up (no surprise that Balthazar should be hanging around the pharmaceutical department, it was his business after all). But Dean had followed him. Castiel didn’t understand that, didn’t understand why Dean didn’t just leave him. But....maybe it kindof felt nice that he was here. He suddenly felt so terribly tired, shaky and the world seemed to spin in front of him.....the next thing he knew, he was aware of someone carrying him, a car door slamming and the gentle movement of a car. Castiel didn’t understand what was going on, but he was too tired too care any longer. He passed out again.

xxxxxxxxx

         He could feel hands on him, their sweaty, needy grasps gripping his face, his wrists, his hips. Fingers twisting his nipple; could hear himself whimper, but he somehow could not pull away. And he couldn’t breathe as he felt the dark shape holding him down, pressing into him. He didn’t want this, no he didn’t want this! But he couldn’t stop it. The unbearable sense of complete powerlessness. And he was so utterly alone. There was no one to take him from this hell. All he had was his father. And he needed his father to love him, and there was only way that he would. His father, his only connection to the world; was the man, whose mouth was on his, pushing his tongue in, a brutal intrusion. And his father inside him; his big adult cock pushing and intruding his narrow channel, stretching him unnaturally. He was trapped beneath the weight, he couldn’t fight it. But he tried, was thrashing around, it was hurting so bad. Now he could feel the hot breath on his face, his father’s whispers, how hot, how tight, how wet. He could feel his father moving slowly in and out, his hole twitching and burning, his father building up speed for the real fucking. And pleasure and pain held hands inside him like childhood friends. He was begging for release....please daddy, please......completely undone on his father’s cock. He was a dirty whore. And he was crying, please daddy please. I don’t want to do this, don’t want to be this. His father’s rough hands pressed over his mouth, he couldn’t speak, couldn’t breathe, couldn’t scream. Fat tears on his cheeks. But they didn’t feel like his cheeks, none of his body felt like his.......

and then he could feel someone shaking him, _“dude wake up”_ and Cas blinked awake, disorientated and confused, tears still fresh on his face. But the man above him, was not his father; no this man was so beautiful he was surely an angel? That was before he spoke _“um, you awake now? I think you were dreaming or something...”_ Cas sat up suddenly, regretting the decision immediately, it felt like someone had taken an ice-pick to his brain. He fell off the bed, clutching his head. Dean gave a short laugh _“oh right, yeah your head, um I’m real sorry about that by the way, you know I didn’t mean......um anyway do you need anything, should I get you like a water of something?”_ Cas looked up at him from his position on the floor _“um that won’t be necessary Dean”._ He was doing his best to sound in control, like it was perfectly normal to wake up in some random guy’s house. He just wanted to be home. Just wanted to see his father. But then, he also didn’t want his father to hurt him, to fuck him. He just wanted everything to be ok. And then he just started to cry. Loud and messy, this was not sexy crying, this was just a man, completely alone, letting out deep and painful guttural moans as he recalled his nightmare, the night before and the reality of his pathetic and sad little life. Dean could see that Cas was just about turning into a hot mess on his bedroom floor. So he did all he knew how, got down on the floor and encircled the man a tight hug and rocked him back and forth. Hell, it had always worked when Sam had fallen over or whatever.

Last night, after Cas had passed out in his father’s room, Dean knew he couldn’t leave him there. Besides that nurse had said because of potential concussion, he shouldn’t be left alone. The only thing he could do was take him back to his. But really, it wasn’t such a well-thought out decision. Dean had just acted on instinct, gathering him up bridal style and carrying him to the car. There was just something about Cas that screamed a need to be looked after, to be cared for. And that’s all Dean ever wanted to do.

Castiel’s cries had become slower, quieter as he sucked in air slowly. His face was red and covered in snot. But Dean looked at him and sighed quietly, the man was still divine. Cas was pulling away slightly now, looking around at the room, taking in the mess, clothes lying on the floor, posters of half naked women, papers in a big pile in the corner, photos of Sam and Dean, several empty bottles of whiskey and rum lying on the floor and the small table by the door, the duvet on the floor....Cas realised Dean must have slept on the floor, he must have given him the bed, he immediately felt ashamed, he didn’t deserve this sort of kindness. _“Dean, you really didn’t have to, you know, you could have left me at the hospital, I would have......”_ Dean interrupted “ _Look shut up dude, you know you wouldn’t have been ok, its no problem, look why don’t you lie here for a bit, get some more sleep, I’m gonna make lunch, think I slept through breakfast. Sure you don’t want anything?”_ Cas looked down, he hadn’t eaten anything yesterday, too nervous about going out with his father. But he didn’t want anything now, didn’t deserve anything. _“No, that’s ok, thank you Dean”._

After Dean had gone, Castiel crawled back up onto the bed and breathed in the pillows. They smelt of Dean. He couldn’t believe he was in Dean’s bedroom, in Dean’s bed. He momentarily wondered if Dean did anything to him while he was passed out last night. But then he knew the answer to that, Dean didn’t seem to want him in that way, even when he offered himself on a plate. God, he was desperate. Just like his father said. Castiel thought back to his father, lying on the hospital bed. He had to be ok. He just had to be. Because although his father terrified him, life without him surely terrified him even more.


	18. Chapter 18

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry, soooo late with this chapter, life got in the way as usual. Will be aiming to write a longer chapter next time (and soon!). Much love x

Dean sat chewing his large ham and egg sandwich slowly, barely tasting it. The events of the night before weighing heavily on his mind, God, Cas had been so sad. God, it sucked his dad was in the hospital. And now this morning.....so sad and yet still so damn beautiful. Dean shifted uncomfortable at just how natural it was to think of Cas as beautiful.....god, no, Cas was just some stupid little druggie rich boy. Dean sighed, he was tired of this internal fight, he knew that as much as he tried to convince himself that Cas wasn’t worth his time, that feeling was there, that desire. But Cas wasn't the only concern on Dean's mind that morning, there were also all the other worries he carried daily by himself; the money he owed, the additional bills he needed to pay, the fact he still hadn’t got any closer to locating Castiel’s brother, his own freaking brother (was Sam really not taking drugs anymore? Was the health kick and extreme health eating any better?)....man, he wanted to get wasted or laid, maybe both. He couldn’t handle it. But as he sat in the kitchen, slowly chewing his sandwich, he showed no indication of any of the stress he was carrying. To a casual observer, he might have even seemed carefree.

Xxxx

It was an hour later, Dean was shifting through his notes in the office; going over the information (or lack of) in relation to the Gabriel search. He sighed, that high school teacher, Mr Devlin, there had just been something about him; he had been too relaxed, too charming, almost as though he was practiced in answering awkward questions about Gabriel Novak. But then, the teacher had still given them some insights into Gabriel’s life, more than Cas had been able to remember – according to Luca Devlin then, the teaching body was under the general opinion that Gabriel was a _“bad boy”_ , known for drinking, smoking and _“other challenging behavior”;_ he had few real friends, choosing to infrequently hang out with other reprobates from the school. Despite his small frame, Gabriel had rarely been bullied apparently due to his quick mouth and apparent disregard for pain; he always went down fighting until the bullies didn’t bother coming back for more. Gabriel had rarely attended classes, and when he had done, teachers rather wished he hadn’t bothered, due to his intent on disruption and acting the class clown. He wasn’t missed when Mr Novak had announced that he had been sent to live with a relative in Canada. Dean sighed again, Gabriel sounded pretty damn cool and so very much like himself at school. He quietly wondered if there were other similarities between them, perhaps Gabriel had also been hiding secrets?

A small cough raised his attention from his thoughts; Cas was standing in the doorway, looking decidedly uncomfortable. “ _I urrr, I’m sorry, um I can see you’re busy, but I urr, I guess I should be going or.....oh!”_ Cas stopped abruptly, his attention caught on the papers and photographs of Gabriel strewn over Dean’s desk, _“oh are you working on my brother’s case?”_ He whispered excitedly. _“How’s it going?_ Dean leaned back in his seat and smiled briefly at the sound of enthusiasm in Cas’ voice. It was nice not to see him so sad. _“Look, I...”_ god, Dean did not know how to tell him the stupid case was not going well _“look Cas, this whole thing, this case, you know it takes time right?_ ” Cas’ deep blue eyes narrowed as they surveyed Dean; _“do you need money?”_ _“What?! God no, that’s not what I am saying!”_ In fact Dean had begun to wonder if he should start charging Cas, god, he was in so much debt, Bobby didn’t know the half of it and Sam never had a clue. But he had promised Cas, had told him that he owed him. He couldn’t go back on that now, but secretly he had begun to wonder, maybe he could just slowly drop the case and concentrate on catching the usual cheats and liars. Hell, he didn’t have a clue where to find Gabriel or even if he wanted finding. But looking at Cas’, his excitement at the possibility of finding his brother, hell he just couldn’t do it, couldn’t tell him he didn’t want to do it anymore. Hell, if it was Sam, he would never give up. So instead Dean said _“Look Cas, I am just saying, it takes time, but I will find him, don’t worry, I will find him”._ Cas wasn’t looking at him anymore, he was holding up a photo that they had got from the school, a photo of Gabriel, 14 years old, must have been taken near to the time he had left. _“I hope so, Dean”_ Cas murmured _“I really hope so”._

Xxxx

After the conversation about Gabriel, Castiel had wanted to leave, had been insistent that he should go back to his house. Privately, he feared being alone in that big house of his father’s. Besides he wasn’t even sure he would be able to get in; his father changed the key codes regularly, and he wasn’t sure if Zachariah had changed them again without telling him. But he couldn’t tell Dean that – it might seem.....weird. But then Dean had offered for him to stay _“just for a few days”_. He couldn’t fathom why Dean wanted him to stay, he briefly wondered if there was anything going on – perhaps Dean wanted sex after all? His father had always told him, that he acted the slut and that was the only thing he had to offer. But then Dean had pushed him away when he tried it on the last time....but then what else could Dean want?  He certainly didn't have anything else to give...despite his father's wealth, he had no money. Obviously Dean didn't know this but then he had certainly seemed like he hadn't wanted money...it was all so confusing. It never crossed Castiel's mind that Dean might simply see a man that was facing the prospect of losing his father and who was in desperate need of a friend. Castiel was simply that unused to kindness.

After it was decided that Castiel would stay at the Winchester-Singer residence for _“a few days”,_ Dean had busied himself with sorting out the laundry and putting fresh sheets on the bed. Castiel would have preferred to have taken the floor, but Dean said he wanted it, something about the floor being good for his back. Castiel was sceptical but Dean had seemed so convincing, he had relented to taking the bed. Besides it was only “ _for a few days”_. After Dean had left the bedroom, Castiel had sunk down onto the bed. He had pulled out the photo of Gabriel, his fingers tracing the outline of Gabriel’s face. He wondered what he looked like now, 14 years later. He had had so much faith in Dean, had been so sure that he would find him. But now? Dean hadn’t seemed so certain that he could find him and Castiel couldn’t help but wonder - what if it took too long to find Gabriel? He just needed to find him so bad. Castiel sighed quietly to himself – what if Dick Roman really did know where Gabriel was?.......


	19. Chapter 19

Dean had left the house that afternoon, mumbling something about getting his baby ‘properly’ cleaned. Cas really hadn’t understood this, but hadn’t questioned him. He was starting to feel just a little bit edgy, restless even. He looked down at his hands, could see they were starting to shake. Could feel his stomach curling and retracting, the hunger he had been ignoring spiking. But even though his stomach was empty, he still felt like he was gonna throw up. He knew he needed his medication and maybe a little extra something. The painkillers he had taken for his concussion, just weren’t hitting him hard enough; he could start to feel the edges of the shadows. He wondered if he should just take more painkillers, maybe they would help him just pass out. As he was contemplating his rather limited options, he suddenly heard the front door bang shut, the sound of someone running up the stairs and with that, he was confronted with a Sam, as he ripped open the bedroom door. A moment of silence followed as Sam attempted to comprehend what Castiel, the quiet guy from his study group and oh yeah his saviour from _that_ night, was doing lying on his brother’s bed. Sam shifted uncomfortably with the realisation that he had never quite got round to talking to Castiel, to thanking him, for what he had done for him, if anything he had kindof avoided him. Of course he had sent a text but the whole night, what happened, going to hospital, it was all so.....embarrassing, god he didn’t recognise himself. And despite his brother’s reservations, he was totally being super healthy now - the whole thing with Ruby, being left in the dirty bathroom to od, it had been a massive wake-up call. And yeah he had been lucky, he hadn’t gone in too far with it all. Of course Ruby had tried a couple of times to get back in touch but she had given up pretty damn easy in Sam’s opinion when he didn’t bother taking her calls. He hadn’t even seen her in class, seemed like she had just dropped out. He hadn’t been tempted once to call her, to take just one more pill.......well not really....

            Castiel broke the silence first. _“Er hi Sam, I guess this is um unexpected?_ _But your brother, well he kindof, I don’t, um well I guess he helped me out last night. I got lost and then my father was in an accident and um he’s not, he’s not doing so well so your brother said I could stay”._ Castiel finished speaking as voice started to break, could feel the tears coming and so he looked down at his hands, digging his nails in to the soft skin on his palm. He had to keep control. Sam was still confused, it seemed like a lot had happened and how the hell had his brother, of all people got involved? But he could see the guy was struggling so he didn’t want to push him too much. _“Shit Cas, that sounds um that really sucks, I’m so sorry about your dad, is there anything I can do, to you know, help?”_ Castiel just shook his head, he knew that Sam didn’t really care, no one ever did. But then again, he seemed so genuine. God he just needed his medication, he just needed his head to be clear. And then he would feel in control again. With a sigh, he knew what he needed to do _“well actually Sam, I think I might just need to go and see my friend, I don’t suppose you could give me a lift over to his?”_

XXXXXX

             In the end, it had all been quite easy. Sam hadn't had access to a car (apparently Dean had taken the impala somewhere) but had lent him money for a taxi to Balthazar’s house, no problem. It all had been more difficult getting his substance needs met by Balthazar due to a severe lack of funds. But he had managed to use his father’s accident to his advantage (ok the tears were genuine, but they certainly helped to soften Balthazar up to his plight). Plus then promising he would pay interest on what he owed ultimately seemed to sway Balthazar to giving some meds up for free ( _“well you are my very best customer, Castiel....”_ ). Balthazar had barely retrieved them from his special hiding place (the air vent in his room), wherein Castiel had snatched them out of his hand, crushing them under a glass of water and snorting them as soon as possible. The feeling of euphoria and gentle giddiness quickly swept over him; along with a strong need to communicate how much he loved Balthazar. Smiling, he lent over to a bemused Balthazar, lightly brushing his lips against his. He was sure that he could see a halo surrounding Balthazar. _“You’re so beautiful”_ Castiel whispered before dissolving into giggles and lying back on the bed. Balthazar sighed _“oh baby, you’re just high”._ He sat down on the bed next to Castiel and lightly carded his hands though Castiel’s hair. Castiel could feel the blood rushing around his body, everything was wonderful, amazing. _“I love being high...and I love you, you’re so amazing....”_ A part of Castiel was wondering where the hell this was all coming from, he had never talked to Balthazar like this before, but he couldn’t seem to stop himself. It was fun. Watching Balthazar’s eyes light up, his smile increase. Yeah this was fun, Maybe a part of him had always known that Balthazar had, well a ‘soft spot’ for him. So he was having fun. And didn’t he deserve that?

Balthazar gave out a little chuckle _“oh baby, keep going and you’re gonna get my dick hard and then what you’re gonna do?”_ Castiel smiled up at Balthazar, _“I’ll do whatever you want me to do”_. His voice came out deeper than he had expected, but it seemed to do something to Balthazar - he lent over Castiel, hands disentangled from his hair and grasping his face, pulled him into an intense kiss; his tongue plunging deeper into Castiel’s mouth. Castiel could feel the need behind it, could feel Balthazar’s hands start to reach down, exploring the rest of his body, could feel his weight shift until he was on top of him, crushing him. He wasn’t sure if this was fun anymore. He started to drift away.

 _“Hey baby, come back to me, baby”_. Balthazar was shaking him. Castiel looked up at him, feeling dazed and confused. _“You checked out for a bit”_ Balthazar leaned back, so he was straddling him, brushing his fingers over Castiel’s jawline. Castiel looked away. _“I  thihk I want to go now please”._ He could see feel the rush inside him. But it wasn’t enough, there was something else there too – it was dread. Balthazar sighed, _“I ain’t stopping you, but I want you to stay, didn’t know you could be quite that fun”._ Castiel wriggled away from Balthazar, who let him get up. “ _you know baby, I could really look after you, if you know, you look after me”._ He sounded kinda desperate. Castiel got up and adjusted his clothes. _“maybe another time"_ He whispered as he quietly left Balthazar’s room.

            And as he left Balthazar’s house, he shivered despite the November sunshine. He looked into the bag he had got from Balthazar, and took out another pill and popped it in his mouth. Everything would be better now.

            After that he had walked to the hospital – a considerable distance, particularly as he didn’t know the way and had to constantly stop to ask for directions. It struck him that he had never been allowed to wander around the city. He was 21 and had barely been out of the house without his father. He walked slowly, enjoying the intense feeling of connection with everything around him; he felt compelled to touch everything which certainly slowed his progress. He also became fascinated by a bee that was pollinating several flowers. He stared at it for 10 minutes. He decided to name the bee, Gerald. So when he finally arrived at the hospital, he was turned away. Visiting hours had long since past. He was starting to come down at this point. He didn’t know what to do, so he just sunk down on the sidewalk outside the hospital. He just wanted to see his father! But he couldn’t! And he certainly couldn’t face another hike back to the place he was staying, oh yeah that was Dean’s! Castiel had almost forgotten about Dean. Maybe Dean would give him a ride? But then he wasn’t sure he wanted Dean to see him in this state. He remembered the conversation they had before where Dean had asked him about getting high. He didn’t want Dean to look at him in the same accusatory, judgemental way. Surely if Dean realised how wonderful it was to get high, he would not expect Castiel to be in any other state? But then his thoughts turned to Sam, his oding. He couldn't handle it. Not like Castiel. He thought then of his own brother. He checked the time. 7pm. Maybe it was about time that he sorted this situation once and for all. He walked back into the hospital, he found a payphone. Reversing the charges, he called the number of the man who really would be able to help him find Gabriel. He called Dick Roman.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Constructive comments always welcome! :)


End file.
